


Found Causes

by andrewiel



Series: Instinct Verse [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood and Injury, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mpreg, Self-Mutilation (sort of), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewiel/pseuds/andrewiel
Summary: “So, I’m not exactly sure how you’d like me to phrase this, so I’ll just cut to the chase, okay?” Abby looks up from the board to meet Neil’s gaze, her smile still in place as it takes on a more gentle light. “The test results came back positive. You’re pregnant, Neil.”All Neil can do is look at her, unable to blink or breathe, and nod his head.Because he already knew.(A sequel to Three-part Process)





	Found Causes

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW! FINALLY! I've only been working on this since August!! It just kept getting longer and longer, with everything being changed like 5 times over. This thing has been written and rewritten so many times that I never want to look at it again, but at least it's finally here and finished! ❤️
> 
> I have kind of lost my way when it comes to writing. My baby, Mr. Shakedown, passed away this January, and writing after that felt wrong. I'm still trying to figure it out, so forgive me for my errors and sentences that don't make sense. I might never make sense again, but I'm learning to work with that. This was fun for me in the end, reminding me how much I love Andrew and Neil, and how much I love writing for them.
> 
> That being said, let's get into some **warnings** : This story centers heavily around **mpreg** , and all the various factors that come with a character being pregnant. If this isn't your thing, you're welcome to close the tab and move onto the next fic! This is for everyone who requested it, and even for myself, who wouldn't usually write this but was a little bit curious to figure out how Andrew and Neil would deal with it. I always try to write them with all the respect in mind, and I hope that shows. Nothing is just for the sake of it. 
> 
> Additional warnings (also spoiler warning): knotting, sexual content, torture, self-mutilation, graphic description of blood, terrible descriptions of labour lmao, unrealistic pregnancy (this whole thing is unrealistic tbh), andddd angst!
> 
> If you have questions pertaining any of these warnings, hit me up on tumblr at [jostenminyard!](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com/ask) And if you know me, pretend you don't! Literally don't tell me if you read this thx

As if he’s nothing more than a skittish cat, Neil has to be coaxed out of the bedroom.

Andrew leans against the doorway as he waits, very obviously past the point of patient. His arms are folded and his head is cocked to the side as he watches Neil inch forward, then immediately inch back.

“If you ever want to eat again, you’ll come downstairs with me,” Andrew says eventually, having run all out of bribes and now entering the territory of threats.

Neil takes another step forward before taking a step back, his heart picking up its pace. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Andrew argues.

“But everyone -” His face flames up at the thought of facing everyone again, after - mating. With Andrew. He is Andrew’s mate now, and that could only mean one thing. “Everyone will know.”

“And?”

“And -” And he doesn’t have an explanation, but for some reason he doesn’t want everyone to know. He doesn’t want anyone to be close to him, doesn’t want them to touch him or smell him, and not because he’s ashamed of how he feels or smells, but because -

Because they aren’t Andrew.

Andrew lets out a short sigh before closing the distance between them and cupping the back of Neil’s neck, bowing Neil’s head in a way that Neil immediately falls for.

“Whatever it is that has you so scared, I already told you,” Andrew says into the space between their lips. “I won’t let it get you.”

Neil can only nod, his throat aching too much to form words. He takes one of Andrew’s hands and allows his alpha to lead him into the hall and away from his sense of safety.

They’re side by side as they make their way downstairs, with Neil pressing closer to Andrew once they’re in the lounge, all the smells and noises too much for him. It’s not all that scary. It’s mostly that Neil liked it when it was just them.

Renee greets them on her way to the kitchen, smiling and waving and innocent. Neil still whimpers and tries to hide against Andrew’s neck, his anxiety ebbing away only once he’s settled in Andrew’s scent.

Andrew allows it only for a moment before tugging Neil through the lounge and towards the kitchen.

The noise builds and builds the closer they get, until they’re standing in the threshold of the door, when it suddenly goes quiet; Renee and Allison are standing by the kitchen island, where Renee has her hand settled on Allison’s arm, as if to stop her from saying anything, while Wymack and Abby look at Neil and then at each other before resuming their conversation.

Kevin looks up from his cup of coffee, glares, then looks back down.

Their careful silence nearly puts Neil at ease - until he senses him.

“Neil!” Nicky yells, his footsteps smacking loud against the kitchen floor as he runs at Neil, a too-bright grin on his face. “Welcome back to the land of the living!”

Nicky opens his arms for a hug as he approaches Neil, but Andrew beats him to it by stepping out in front of him, becoming a barrier between the two of them.

“No,” Andrew says flatly, holding out a hand to stop Nicky from stepping closer. “Don’t touch him. Don’t talk to him unless he talks to you first. If you have any business regarding Neil, which I highly doubt you do, you will come to me before you bother him, is that clear?”

His nerves feel settled under Andrew’s protection, but he doesn’t like the looks of everyone else in the room. He wouldn’t need such protection if nothing was wrong.

“Andrew, it’s okay,” Neil says softly, touching lightly at his alpha’s arm to draw him back. “He’s okay.”

After he says it, he immediately believes it, for the longer he stands in this room with all these people . . . he can sense their judgements and concerns, but he can’t sense any pain or fear.

Andrew looks over his shoulder at Neil, then sighs and lowers his arm as he steps to the side. Nicky looks between the two of them before leaning in for a brief hug, pulling away the second Andrew begins to growl.

The tenseness in the air breaks, with everyone soon returning to their conversations and food. Andrew pulls Neil to the kitchen table and sets out two bowls for them, filling his with sugary cereal and Neil’s with the plain Cheerios he likes.

They eat together, with Andrew’s ankle hooked around his, never drifting far apart. Neil nearly completely settles.

Nearly.

Until Abby gently clears her throat and offers him a bright smile. “So, Neil,” she says, all kind words with ulterior motives. “I was hoping to schedule you in for another appointment, now that your heat has since passed. Do you have any time for me this afternoon?”

Neil looks first to Andrew for help, but confusion and the instinctual urge he’s always had to sort out confusion takes over, leading him to fend for himself. “Why do I need another appointment?” Neil asks, his brows pinching in confusion. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, but -” Abby stops herself from reaching across the table for Neil’s hand at Andrew’s heated stare. “We can discuss this later in my office, if it’s privacy you’re looking for.”

“I just said that I’m fine,” Neil protests, looking at Andrew again for help - but finding none. Andrew looks nearly as confused, nothing but a blank stare in his eyes. “Can’t you just ask me what you want now?”

“Well, I -”

“She means she has to check if you’re knocked up or not,” Allison suddenly says, standing with one hand on her hip, her smile too delighted. “Which is, you know, common sense after what you got yourself into. Who knew you had it in y-”

She’s cut off by Renee and her elbow, jabbed into Allison’s side with precision. “I apologize for her. We’ll be leaving now.”

The two girls hurry out of the room, with Allison whining while Renee scolds her.

Neil is too stunned to even notice, really.

He doesn’t even notice Nicky, who is sitting perched up on the kitchen island with a grin crystal clear across his face as he looks from Abby, to Neil, to a still-blank Andrew.

“Neil’s going to have a baby?” Nicky asks in a shout, his hysteria nearly contagious. “I’m going to have another cousin?”

“Well, that’s to be determined, if and when Neil decides to meet with me for a pregnancy test,” Abby tries to explain, doing her best to sound soothing. “It’s not entirely common for male omegas to conceive on the first try, but -”

“I’m not.” Neil says it, though he can’t feel his mouth move and he can’t hear his own voice. “I’m not. Okay?”

“It’s alright, we can -”

“But I’m not - _I’m not_ -”

The world tilts fast around him when he stands up. Andrew stands too, silent, but seeming to know exactly what Neil needs by reaching out and holding the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry -” Abby says, or tries to say, before Andrew leads Neil out of the kitchen.

They’re back in their room within seconds, the door closed and locked. Familiar scents surround them, finally, but Neil doesn’t feel any more calm. Andrew pushes Neil to sit on the bed, then pulls his touch away as he takes a step back.

“I’m not,” Neil says for what feels like the hundredth time, looking only at his hands. “I would know if I were, wouldn’t I? So I’m not.”

Instinct is a distinct ring through his body, lighting up all of his nerves with instructions on what to do, telling him to place a hand on his stomach, carefully, to protect. So Neil does.

The thing about instinct is that it always tells you what, but never, ever why.

Realizing what he had just done, Neil quickly slips his hand away, but Andrew’s eyes are already on him.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” Andrew says, indifferent. “Are you -” Then he sounds nervous. Like Nicky’s hysteria caught him, too. “Are you sure?”

Neil looks up, and lies through his teeth.

“I’m sure.”

-

Then he can’t not feel it.

He isn’t sure if it’s his mind playing games on him, like some sort of placebo effect, or if it’s real.

As Andrew sleeps beside him, Neil sneaks a hand underneath his own shirt to map out the skin of his stomach. He traces familiar scars, painful enough in memory that they bring tears to Neil’s eyes, sharp and bright - because these scars are proof of everything he’s been through, what his life has been about.

He is damaged goods, only held together by instinct. How can he carry another life when he isn’t even enough for his own?

Right now he feels nothing but scars along his skin, but underneath all that he thinks he can feel . . .

Andrew mated him, and Neil wanted it, along with everything that would come with it. He meant it when he said yes, but you can want something without ever actually thinking it will happen.

This can’t happen.

He can’t.

He isn’t and he can’t and he won’t and he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t -

Andrew was the greatest risk Neil could take. All he does is run away. Connecting to somebody like this, putting his hand in someone else’s, was stupid and reckless. It was putting another target in his father’s path.

Neil can’t create another one.

And yet, underneath his hand, if he closes his eyes and tries to sense it -

He can.

-

It’s all in his head.

He feels dizzy at dinner, like he shouldn’t be eating. Like if he does eat, he won’t be able to hold it down.

The scent of food has always been strong for him, each individual spice so unique. Now though, it’s all a blended mess, scent mixed with scent, all flooding his senses, and while he knows it’s in his head, the urge to be sick is just too strong.

He jerks up and away from the kitchen table and runs for the exit, for the bathroom, needing to escape now, now, now he has to get out of here _now_.

Somebody calls his name as he runs through the lounge and up the stairs, but if he stops now he’ll be sick everywhere and all over himself.

He ends up keeled over the toilet bowl, tears in his eyes as nothing comes up.

He still feels sick.

And it has to be in his head, like some sort of seed planted in his mind to make him think that he is, but he isn’t . . .

Someone knocks on the open bathroom door behind Neil. He doesn’t flinch at the noise, too miserable to be scared.

“Hey,” and it’s Nicky, of all people, and Neil knows that Nicky shouldn’t be in their bedroom, but he’s too tired tonight to fight. “Are you feeling okay?”

Neil lets out a slight whimper and tries to cover it by wiping at his mouth. “I’m fine.”

“I’m going to go on record and say I don’t believe you,” Nicky says with a slight laugh, stepping further into the bathroom. “But um, here.”

Nicky crouches next to Neil and places a steaming mug of tea between them.

“Peppermint tea. It’s supposed to help your tummy feel better.”

Neil looks at the mug and then at Nicky, and smiles sadly at him. “Thanks,” he says weakly, reaching out to fiddle with the string of the tea bag. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, I know,” Nicky says with a grin and a shrug. “Andrew nearly put me through a vetting process before letting me come up here . . . but you deserve it.”

All Neil can do is nod, so as not to agree or disagree.

Neil gives Nicky another smile, while Nicky’s fades away. It feels like something is being said, silent as it is. Neil has to look down and keep his gaze trained on his tea, hoping that Nicky will understand and leave.

“Okay, I should probably go before Andrew releases the hounds . . . but, um, Neil? If you need anything, or just want to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

Neil nods again, and then Nicky leaves. Eventually, Neil drinks his tea, feeling calmer and stronger.

But somehow so weak.

-

Once Andrew returns to their room, Neil thinks to throw his defenses back up, but he knows that Andrew can make him just as much as Andrew can break him, so once Andrew is looking at him, Neil can’t be anything but himself.

He sits on their bed with his legs crossed, the mug of tea now cold in his hands. He smiles weakly at Andrew after he’s locked the door, and mouths a gentle ‘thank you’ when Andrew takes the mug away and sets it on top of their dresser.

“Bed?” Andrew asks, and reads Neil’s expression for his answer. He pulls out a set of clothes for the both of them, a hoodie and a pair of boxers for Neil, and lays them on the end of the bed for Neil to change into.

He takes his own clothes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Neil can hear the sound of running water as Andrew brushes his teeth. He focuses on that and the dull buzz in the air instead of himself, zoning out until Andrew steps back into the room.

Neil is in the same spot that Andrew left him in, the clothes still on the edge of the bed.

Andrew scoffs lightly as he approaches Neil, his hands hesitating by his side before he indicates to Neil’s shirt. “Okay?” he asks, and when Neil nods, unable to form the words, Andrew lifts Neil’s shirt off and replaces it with the hoodie, smelling so intensely of Andrew that Neil’s residual anxiety fades.

He helps Neil out of his jeans but leaves his underwear on, then pulls back the blanket for Neil to get under. Andrew gets in on the other side, leaving a few inches between their bodies as they settle in. Neil wants to wiggle closer, but his body is too numb to even do that.

Instead he shuts his eyes and listens to the soft sound of Andrew’s breath, his heartbeat.

But he cannot sleep.

“Andrew?” Neil asks to the dark and quiet room.

“What?”

“Will you . . .” It feels wrong to ask, like he shouldn’t, like it’ll only lead to danger - but the danger has already happened and passed, hasn’t it? “Will you touch me?”

Andrew doesn’t answer, but after a moment the inches disappear between them. His chest comes up to Neil’s back, as one of his hands settle against Neil’s waist. He’s so warm, even through the fabric of the sweater, and Neil feels a little less cold.

He holds his breath all the same, so scared, believing that Andrew will feel it then. What Neil feels.

But all Andrew does is murmur Neil’s name and press his lips against the back of his neck.

“Andrew?”

“What?”

And while Andrew’s touch is warm, his voice is cold, close enough to make Neil shiver. His unease fades, replaced by need.

“ _Touch me._ ”

He can’t say everything. He can hardly breathe as it is. But he wants Andrew, because he always has.

The second that Andrew understands, arousal forms and hardens behind Neil, flooding the room. Neil’s already-shallow breathing hitches when Andrew slides his hand underneath Neil’s hoodie to lay directly against his skin. His fingers toy along the edge of Neil’s briefs before he finally pulls them down.

They stay hooked around Neil’s knees, but that’s all they need.

Andrew hikes the sweater higher up Neil’s back next, leaving him exposed from the waist down. His hand runs soothingly along Neil’s hip as he nudges a knee between Neil’s legs, propping his thighs open and apart.

Having Andrew’s touch there again is enough to make Neil gasp, so sharp that it makes Andrew still. Neil whines when he stops, placing his hand over Andrew’s and squeezing it, saying all without words to keep going, because his mind isn’t fogged up like it was before and he wants - _needs_ \- to feel everything.

Andrew’s huffs against Neil’s neck in acceptance, as his touch continues to wander.

It’s hard to keep still when he touches Neil like that, teasing and explorative. It feels like praise. Like the way Andrew holds the back of Neil’s neck when Neil needs him to. It feels like a claim.

It’s so slow, so quiet, so different compared to the chaos of their first time. With the loud cries and all the pleas, with the pain and the stretch and the harsh bite of teeth.

Neil tries to keep himself parted for Andrew, trembling from exertion but not in any hurry to stop. He has to take his hand off of Andrew’s and fold it up in the sheets to steady himself, as he keeps his eyes shut, because it’s all beginning but it’s all too much.

Andrew stays behind him, in control of it all, every touch, but when he presses himself against Neil’s hole, he seems to hesitate.

Here though, they don’t need words, for all the words have been said. Neil feels it, and Andrew understands it.

The heavy, hard feeling of Andrew is so needed yet so terrifying that Neil has to suck in his breath, only to let out a strung-out cry when Andrew sinks in with ease.

Without the heat, he can feel everything as it is; Andrew is thick, his movements intense and pointed. It feels as if it’ll tear Neil apart, but without it there is nothing to keep him together. Andrew’s short, rough thrusts make the world crack and crumble around Neil, and all he can do is hold on, close his eyes and allow it.

Then that hand that Andrew had on Neil’s hip slides forward, until it’s resting over Neil’s stomach.

Neil winces and turns his face into the pillow to hide the way his expression falls, to muffle the tiny sob that sits in the back of his throat. Andrew whimpers, small yet so heavy with concern that it hurts. He slows down, pressing his nose to Neil’s neck and soothing the skin there.

Neil keeps his eyes closed and his feelings shut off, then grabs Andrew’s hand and moves it upwards, over his heart.

Andrew doesn’t knot him. He holds him and fucks him until Neil shudders through his orgasm, out of breath and out of mind, with Andrew not too far behind. When Andrew pulls out he doesn’t go far, rutting against Neil’s ass until he comes, his breath all laboured against Neil’s neck, his hand hot over Neil’s heart.

Neil feels rattled yet awakened, at odds but at peace. A low and light purr hums through his chest at the feeling of Andrew all over his skin, the scents and the feelings replacing everything unfortunate.

When Neil tries to move, Andrew growls while holding him down, biting the back of his neck to make him obey, and Neil stays. Andrew makes a small noise of satisfaction before getting up, grabbing a cloth from the bathroom and the clean boxers from before. He cleans Neil off quickly before pushing him down again.

They need a new blanket, which Andrew pulls from their small closet. He kicks the soiled one to the floor to deal with later, then gets back into bed and back behind Neil.

But this time he turns Neil over, so they’re face to face. He holds the back of Neil’s neck firmly, rubbing his thumb along his skin soothingly, until everything but the calm and quiet fades.

Until all there is to do is sleep.

-

For breakfast, he has another mug of peppermint tea.

Allison gives him a pointed look at that, while Renee smiles warmly at him. Neil wants to curl in on himself or sidle up closer to Andrew, but if he isn’t - and he’s not - then he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t need that protection.

Andrew places his hand on Neil’s back and turns towards him, offering up a slice of apple with his free hand. “Eat.”

The apple doesn’t smell like much besides the brown sugar that Andrew had sprinkled on top, so Neil decides it should be easy enough to handle. He takes the slice, and it feels good to eat after so long without, but all the same he shakes his head when Andrew offers him another piece.

Andrew doesn’t push him, instead sliding Neil’s cup of tea closer. Whatever everyone else in the room seems to notice, Andrew doesn’t, oblivious to their weighted stares.

“Andrew?” Neil whispers, avoiding Renee’s curious eyes on him. “Can we go upstairs?”

Andrew nods and takes their dishes to the sink before placing his hand on the small of Neil’s back and guiding him out of the kitchen. Neil feels calmer the further they go, up the stairs and to their bedroom. Until all of a sudden he doesn’t.

Like the flick of a switch, he goes from relaxed to defensive.

“I’ll run you a bath,” Andrew says once they’re inside, grabbing Neil a towel from their closet and heading into the bathroom. Neil hasn’t the energy to agree or disagree, his mind full of mixed feelings. He sits on the edge of the bed and tries to figure it out.

But as he runs into one wall, he turns around and runs into another.

The water begins to pour, the sweet smell of omega soap heavy in the air, mixed with a hint of Andrew’s. The combined scents only confuse Neil more, as he draws his knees up to his chest and huddles around them, protecting himself.

He wants Andrew to comfort him, while also needing Andrew to stay away. He can’t be close. He can’t touch Neil. Nobody can touch Neil, because then they’ll know what he can’t know.

Because then they might take it away.

Andrew steps back into the room, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up and his face tinted red from the steam. “Neil,” he says, indicating with a jerk of his chin to the bathroom.

“No,” Neil says, and raises all those walls he’d run into up around him.

“Neil,” Andrew tries again, a certain sternness crossing his face. “Come here.”

When he takes a step forward Neil immediately backs himself up across the bed to get further away.

“No!”

It’s shouted so loud and so feral that Andrew falters in his next step.

“Neil, stop.” Andrew raises his hands in front of him, in clear view of Neil’s sight. “You are safe here. You’re in your room, the door is locked, nothing is going to -”

“Don’t touch me!” Neil shouts when Andrew edges a foot forward. He bares his teeth and snarls, for once sounding vicious about it.

Andrew keeps his hands where they are and goes quiet. His nostrils flare, his anger like spice in the air, and Neil wants to bow down to it and let him in, but something so fierce and terrifying is controlling him. It’s not instinct. It’s something deeper.

Neil stares Andrew down until Andrew’s anger fades. He exhales loudly before turning for the door, closing it soundly behind him. The lock clicks, with Andrew’s scent still in the air meaning he’s only standing on the other side of the door.

Standing guard, not going far.

Neil feels himself begin to calm. With trembling legs he gets up and walks to the bathroom, undressing before getting in the tub. The air is warm and stuffy, the water sweet-scented. It all smells like Andrew, without the danger of it actually being Andrew.

Except Neil knows Andrew isn’t a danger to him. He never was, never has been and never will be.

Once the bubbles start to pop and fade in the water, Neil has a clear view of his stomach. It’s still scarred and relatively flat, too scrawny to be or do anything. For now.

Andrew isn’t a danger, not to Neil, but he can’t know. If he gets too close then he’ll sense something that Neil can’t.

Or worse, sense something that Neil can.

Denial courses through Neil’s blood, to try and make his body believe that this isn’t happening.

That it can’t.

It’s all in his head, and he knows that, he does.

But maybe it isn’t.

Neil lays a hand over his stomach and shuts his eyes.

It’s impossible to know what to do if you don’t know what’s happening. It’s impossible to make a choice when you don’t know what it is that you have to decide.

-

Andrew hovers all morning, not standing too close but never going far.

He growls at Kevin when Kevin tries to take the seat next to Neil at the kitchen table, and stands in Wymack’s way when he gets up to grab another cup of coffee the same time that Neil is boiling water for tea.

When it’s time for him and Renee to leave for the day, needing to travel to another shelter a few towns over with Wymack, Neil has to refuse the urge to cling to him. He knows how to exist on his own, as he has for many years, but it’s different now.

Different in so many ways.

Andrew is his, and Neil’s never had anything of his own before.

And he is Andrew’s, and though Neil has been a belonging since birth, being Andrew’s doesn’t feel like being owned.

It feels like a match, like they are each other’s other halves. Neil can’t remember what it had felt like before Andrew completed him, and he doesn’t ever want to find out again. So he sits at the top of the staircase as he watches Andrew leave, knowing that Andrew will return and that he will be okay, but . . .

But Neil’s so scared.

Because he _can’t_ be, but if he is . . . then he’s opening himself up to a world where what is his can easily be taken.

It takes hours for Neil to summon the bravery he needs; he lingers around their bedroom, cleaning and shifting furniture around until he feels some semblance of peace. He pushes the bed against the furthest wall from the door and the window, with their dresser next to the door so he can push it in front if need be.

Nobody can get in if he doesn’t want them to, but he can get out.

He walks laps around the lounge next, always eyeing the front door to the shelter, trying to gauge how easily someone could break in. He’s familiar with the building’s security - he went through it with Wymack at least three times upon moving in - but he has to be sure, he has to know.

Slowly, as the day passes, he finds himself getting closer and closer towards the wellness ward. The sterile scent is strong up Neil’s nose, almost enough to make him back down and walk away, but he’ll find his way back here eventually, one way or another, so he goes.

The clinic is quiet when he walks in. Abby isn’t at the main desk, but Neil can sense her somewhere in one of the other rooms. He sits and waits, studying the wall of pamphlets opposite him. He cringes everytime he reads anything about pregnancy . . . but that’s why he’s here.

He nearly reaches out for a pamphlet about omega pregnancy before fear stops him. Besides, Abby will more than likely make him read it by the end of the day.

He begins to squirm the longer he waits, wondering if he should’ve brought somebody with him.

It’s a shock then to realize he sort of wishes he came with Nicky. At least then, somebody would be more panicked than he is.

Abby comes out of one of the rooms then, a clipboard in her hand and a pen tucked behind her ear. She startles when she sees Neil, a hand flying to her chest, that pen behind her ear falling to the floor.

“Oh my goodness, Neil. You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Neil mumbles, no longer able to look at her, studying his hands instead. “It’s okay if you don’t, but . . um . . . do you have any appointments available today?”

Abby’s evident nerves fade, replaced by a soothing sort of calm. “Of course, Neil. I have time right now if you want to come in?”

Neil suspects she doesn’t really have the time, but he takes her offer regardless and follows Abby into an examination room. The colours and scents and the cool air bring back memories of all sorts, most specifically the day Abby told him that he and Andrew would  . . .

His face flushes as he fidgets on the examination table, the paper crinkling underneath him.

“So, I’m going to presume I know why you’re here to see me today,” Abby says, sliding her glasses on and pulling a new pen from her jacket pocket. “Forgive me, but as your doctor I have noticed a few odd changes in your behaviour as of late, such as your appetite, and -”

“I can’t,” Neil says, cutting her off, the words said miserably between them. “I can’t be. So can you please - can you just tell me that I’m not?”

She smiles gently, and Neil hates it.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” she says, putting her clipboard down. “Let’s start from the beginning then, okay? What are you here for today, Neil?”

He wants to be angry at how - at how nice she is, but with how off-balance he feels, he guesses he needs it.

“I, um,” he mumbles, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. “I need you to see . . . I need to know if I’m . . . pregnant.”

Nothing shows on Abby’s face that that was what she had been assuming. She simply nods and stands up, going to the counter in the corner and rifling through one of the drawers before pulling out a plain looking box.

“It’s very routine, Neil, I promise,” she says, handing him the box. “This is your run-of-the-mill pregnancy test. While there is a chance it could produce a false negative, if you’re not satisfied with the results you’re given we can go ahead and do a blood test. How does that sound?”

Neil looks down at the test in his hands, wanting to throw it away. It’s the first step in finding out for sure, and as bad as he needs to know, he wishes denial could delay things.

“Okay,” he says, and allows Abby to lead him to the nearest restroom.

It should be easy then. The directions are right on the box.

Neils stares into the mirror above the sink for at least five minutes, then at the test itself for another ten.

With a broken sob, he inhales deeply and finally takes that step.

As soon as it’s over, he flees from the bathroom, running out into the hall and very nearly colliding into Abby. Her calming presence doesn’t shift as Neil cries, her strength never faltering as she guides Neil back to the exam room with one arm around his back.

Back in the exam room, he curls himself against the wall, hiding his face from Abby as she studies the test, placed face-up on the counter. She hasn’t said anything yet, hasn’t confirmed or denied his future, but Neil can sense it all the same.

“So, Neil, I’m going to go ahead and suggest a blood test,” she eventually says, her voice so sudden it makes Neil jerk on the table. “Your test came back positive, but just to be sure, why don’t you come down so we can go ahead?”

Neil stays where he is for a minute, curled up and hiding, before peeking over his shoulder at Abby, his vision blurry from tears. He nods, just wanting this to be over, and lets Abby help him down and into a chair, where she draws his blood, calm as she ever is.

“I have to send this over to the lab, but we should get the results back before the end of the night. Why don’t you lay down and rest in the meantime?”

Neil only wants his bed, but he doesn’t have the strength to make it back on his own. He accepts Abby’s offer of her office, where he curls up on the small couch and shuts his eyes. He’s afraid, and that should make it impossible to sleep anywhere that isn’t beside Andrew, but panic has run him exhausted, so he falls asleep quickly.

Sometime later, he’s woken up by someone saying his name, softly. He still wakes up with a flinch and a jerk, looking in each direction before finally settling on Abby.

“Neil,” Abby says, holding her hands up placatingly. “It’s me. It’s time to wake up.”

Neil nods slowly, still trying to make sense of his surroundings and why he isn’t with Andrew right now.

“Your results are in. Would you like to come with me?”

“My -” Then he’s fully awake, shock taking precedence over his body. “Oh.”

But her smile is so sweet that Neil wants to think it’s good news.

Back in the exam room, he’s too tired to hide himself away from her, so he sits with his legs dangling over the side of the table, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast. Abby flips through a chart on her clipboard, keeping the same expression on her face as she reads whatever’s in front of her.

“So, I’m not exactly sure how you’d like me to phrase this, so I’ll just cut to the chase, okay?” She looks up from the board to meet Neil’s gaze, her smile still in place as it takes on a more gentle light. “The test results came back positive. You’re pregnant, Neil.”

All Neil can do is look at her, not able to blink or breathe, and nod his head.

Because he already knew.

“Okay,” he says quietly, folding a hand over his stomach like he’s so often done before. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Abby laughs, delighted, joy so clear in her eyes that it makes Neil almost want to be happy. “It’s far too soon to tell, Neil. What are you hoping for?”

Neil shrugs, for once too exhausted to let panic consume him. “I don’t know. I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“That’s why I’m here, Neil. I do know, and I want to help you and Andrew through this experience,” she says, sweetly, and opens a desk drawer to pull out a pamphlet. “This is meant to be one of the greatest joys of life, having your first pup. I understand why you may feel afraid, but I promise this is going to be okay.”

Neil takes the pamphlet from her, skimming over the title and the description on the front. The insides are filled with month-by-month pictures of somebody’s pregnancy, showing the person grow, as well as the pup inside of them.

His hand clenches over his stomach as something protective and fierce pulls through him.

“I’m going to get that big?” Neil asks after a few minutes of silence, once he’s gotten further towards the end of the pamphlet.

Abby laughs. “It all depends on you and the status of your pup. Alpha’s tend to grow bigger in the womb, while omegas tend to be smaller. And taking into consideration your own size and status, I can’t imagine you becoming quite that large.”

“It doesn’t explain why I keep getting sick.”

“It’s all a part of the changes your body goes through. Your hormones are shifting and your body is moving. It’ll take some time to adjust.”

Neil frowns.

“How long until . . .” He bites his lip as he forms the words in his head, embarrassed to even be asking, but Abby has already seen the worst parts of him. “How long until I have it?”

“Well, omega pregnancies typically last between six to seven months, due to the nature of your status. Something silly about needing to fall pregnant again right after. That’s entirely up to you, of course, but I would say you’re a month or so in now.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Will what hurt?”

Neil curls in on himself, suddenly wishing for Andrew and the comforting touch of his hand on Neil’s neck.

“When I have it. The . . . the baby.”

Abby’s smile looks sympathetic then, as she reaches forward to take hold of Neil’s hand.

“Birth is different for every individual, Neil, but since you are an omega male, it’s safe to say you’ll require surgery when the time comes. Do you understand? That’s why it’s so important that you stay close to home as your due date approaches.”

Neil frowns again, trying to figure out the logistics of it, where they’ll cut him and how much it’ll hurt and how defenseless he’ll be, all because of some stupid baby inside of him that he didn’t even want -

A startled whimper escapes his lips, so pained that even Abby stands to her feet.

“Neil?”

“I’m fine,” he splutters, and though he wants to detest the life growing inside of him, his hand stays heavy and soothing over his belly. “I just - I can’t.”

Before he can stop himself, he feels tears spring to his eyes, hot and unwanted.

“I can’t do this,” he cries, shaking his head as Abby tries to soothe him. “I can’t, and Andrew doesn’t - we can’t. I can’t, I’m only -”

He’s still nineteen, and though he knows he was meant to be bred a long time ago, and that Andrew will take care of him -

Andrew’s strength has limits. Andrew thinks he can protect Neil, but that was before Neil was pregnant, before all these dangers were added. His father will find Neil, and not only will he take Neil away from Andrew, but he’ll take Neil’s baby away from Neil.

“Do you want me to call for Andrew?”

“No!” And he’s in hysterics, screaming at Abby to stop, to not touch her phone, to leave him alone.

He wants to run. Not from Andrew, not from this place, but away from something that can’t be changed. He’s pregnant, and he wanted it, he wanted Andrew to take him and mate him, but he didn’t ever think he’d have to face the consequences.

Everything about that night felt safe and secure, like no harm would find them.

Now it’s growing inside of Neil, a ticking time bomb that he can’t see or control.

-

Unable to handle the thought of facing Andrew now, so sure that the truth will be clear across his face, Neil hides in the examination room for as long as possible.

Even though he needs him, wants him so badly, knowing that Andrew is the only one who can make this all better.

Fear is a powerful enemy sometimes.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here in the wellness ward tonight, Neil,” Abby tells him, returning from the kitchen with a cup of peppermint tea. “Or for however long you need. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Neil accepts the tea and huddles further into the fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders, feeling sleepier than he actually is.

He wants Andrew, but . . . but wanting Andrew is what got him here in the first place.

“No, I don’t think so,” Neil says into the steam of his tea. “I don’t want . . .” It feels horrible to admit it, but he thinks Abby will understand. “I want to see him, but I can’t . . . I don’t know how to tell him.”

Abby reaches over and brushes his bangs back from his face, her presence so calming. “You don’t have to, not yet. You’ll know how when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

Abby laughs softly. “A baby can’t stay inside you forever, Neil.”

He scowls at her, which only makes her laugh harder.

Once Neil is done his tea, Abby finds him a change of clothes, and goes to lead him to a spare room in the wellness ward before Neil stops her, hesitating in the doorway of the clinic as she looks at him curiously.

“Um, I really liked your office,” Neil admits, his head bowed. “Is it okay if I stay there?”

Something similar to gratitude emanates from Abby as she smiles and takes him back to her office. Neil settles onto the couch again, curling up in the blanket and ready to sleep this all away, only to find he can’t shut his eyes.

He wants to ask - it’s stupid, but he wants her to stay. Just until he falls asleep. She’s safe. She makes him feel safe. But it’s stupid and she’s not Andrew, so she won’t -

The desk chair creaks loudly, interrupting Neil’s panicked thoughts. He looks over to find Abby sitting at her desk, closing her eyes, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Neil stares at her as he tries to figure it out, how a beta like her could be so versed in reading him, then decides he never needs to find out. He sleeps with ease that night, through the dark and into the light for the first time in weeks.

-

Neil can detect the exact second that Andrew returns home, able to sense him in something deeper than bone marrow. Though Neil is frightened of Andrew’s eventual reaction, the omega in Neil needs him, so he’s on his feet and down the hall within heartbeats.

He’s already bounding down the stairs when he detects something else, something similar to Andrew but so entirely different. When he finally places it, there isn’t enough time to stop and retreat, go back. Neil fumbles over the last step as he tries to turn around, but fear is like lead in his legs, causing him to collapse.

That scent was danger, and suddenly it’s everywhere.

There’s a man with Andrew who looks identical to him in so many ways, but smells so wildly different.

Unsure and afraid, Neil’s brain says to push himself up and run away, while instinct moves his arms down to protect his stomach, a low growl forming in the back of his throat as he stares the man down, trying to figure him out.

Andrew approaches Neil carefully, his scent only confusing him now when mixed with the other man’s.

“Stop that,” Andrew says as he crouches down to Neil’s level, taking one of Neil’s hands into his.

And though Neil was terrified, is terrified, he settles instantly, feeling so relieved. “You’re back,” he says against Andrew’s mouth, moving a hand to clutch at Andrew’s jacket and pull him closer.

He can sense how much Andrew had missed him, in his scent and the way he holds Neil.

Something warm breaks in Neil’s chest. He wants Andrew to take him upstairs and lock the door, so it’s finally just them, and he nearly asks Andrew to do just that when somebody loudly clears their throat, reminding Neil of the threat that Andrew had made him forget.

“Uh, what the fuck?”

Neil wraps both arms around Andrew’s chest and hides his face against him, as if that’ll make the man make sense. Andrew pets down Neil’s back to soothe him before letting go and turning around.

“Problem?” he asks, keeping one hand on Neil’s neck.

“Uh, yeah,” the man scoffs. “Who the hell is that?”

Neil tenses at the man’s tone of voice, but Andrew stays still and strong beside him, his protective touch never seeming to waver.

“This is Neil,” Andrew says to the man, and his hold suddenly turns possessive. “My mate.”

-

Neil hasn’t had to fight in quite a while, fortunately.

But he does know how, and so he very nearly ripped out Andrew’s brother’s eyes.

To be fair, it wasn’t Neil’s fault, because he wasn’t aware that the man _was_ Andrew’s brother.

Aaron.

Andrew had just helped Neil to his feet when Aaron suddenly lunged at Neil, nearly knocking him back over as he shouted a million things in his face, half of those being interrogating questions that Neil couldn’t and wouldn’t answer - _who are you, what are you, why are you here, what do you want?_

Andrew had the sense to push his brother back before he could actually touch Neil, but hadn’t thought to hold Neil back as well, so it was easy enough for Neil to swipe his hands across Aaron’s face.

Aaron’s anger radiates throughout the kitchen, Andrew and Neil on one side of the dining room table with Aaron on the other. Aaron holds an ice pack to his cheek, right where Neil had clawed him, scowling and emitting furious waves of scent.

Neil isn’t all that happy either, for he didn’t know Andrew had a brother. Andrew never told him. And even if he did, Neil wasn’t expecting to meet said brother just then, or have said brother interrogate him. So he sits with his arms folded too, his mouth twisted into a pout.

“Now that the introductions are over, why don’t you start by telling me what the hell that was about,” Andrew says to Aaron, though his eyes look from his brother to Neil.

Aaron is an expressive person, more so than Andrew, for his face creases with evident anger.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll start. _What_ the _fuck?_ Who is he? Last time I was here, you said you would quit taking strays in off the street. Not marry them!”

Neil jerks upwards in his seat, only for Andrew to hold him back with a hand on his chest.

“I’ve already told you; his name is Neil, and wherever he was before coming here isn’t any of your business.”

“He literally _smells_ like danger. This kid is just asking for trouble. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

“What’s it to you? You don’t live here anymore.”

“But you and Nicky do,” Aaron argues, and though his words sound as if they’re meant to hurt, Neil can sense genuine concern underneath them all. “Yet you keep bringing danger in like this. Does your family not mean anything to you?”

Still seething, Neil discreetly lowers a hand to his belly, calming himself while also protecting their pup - _their family._

It would be impossible for Aaron to know, but it’s almost as if he’s addressing every hidden fear that Neil has, every truth.

“Neil is my mate,” Andrew says evenly, if a bit defensively. He moves his hand from Neil’s chest to the back of his neck, where Neil can feel Andrew’s irritated pulse begin to settle. “Is that not family?”

“You know what I me-”

“I don’t.”

“Andrew -”

“No. This is not a debate, and even if it were, you are a beta and you will stay in your place.”

Even Neil whimpers at that, though he knows the words aren’t meant for him.

That earns two sets of eyes on him, one heated and one concerned.

“You’re an idiot,” Aaron says and gets up from the table. “I’m not going to patch up your wounds whenever this one cuts you up and leaves you bleeding. Cry to someone else about it.”

As soon as Aaron leaves the kitchen, the scent in the air shifts into calm. Neil nearly settles, but fight continues to thrive under his skin. He turns to Andrew with a frown on his face. “You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”

“Emphasis on ‘had’,” Andrew says with a shake of his head and a deep sigh. “He took the first chance he got and moved out a year ago to do a residency, at some hospital up north. The furthest one he could find.”

Neil frowns again, unable to decode the tone in Andrew’s voice. He can’t tell if he’s upset or angry, or completely indifferent. “For someone who abandoned you guys, he sure seems to care a lot about family.”

Andrew’s laugh is breathy and bare, but there. “You’re telling me.”

He sighs again before turning closer to Neil, and picks up the hand that Neil had used on Aaron’s face, pressing on his palm to stretch out his fingers. Neil tries to not tremble, knowing he’s stronger than this, but Andrew’s touch is a balm to all his worries.

All it takes is one touch and Neil feels safe again. Complete.

Their fingers line up so well that Neil wonders if the purpose of hands is to hold them.

He smiles at Andrew, and tries to forget about everything else.

-

With Aaron in the shelter, there’s a tenseness to the air that affects not only Neil, but everyone around him.

Breakfast is a fun-filled occasion, thanks to all the yelling and underhanded jabs coming from either side of the table. Neil sits in the middle, figuratively and physically, sandwiched between Andrew and Renee as Aaron argues with Andrew, before arguing with Nicky.

Neil can detect when someone is good or bad. Usually. Since it’s a very distinct opposition. With Aaron . . . he doesn’t know, because he doesn’t know what his intentions are. It’s clear he cares about Andrew and Nicky. Maybe. In his own strange way.

But every other sentence said to Nicky is usually some form of ‘shut up’, while everything said to Andrew is in the form of an argument; from what he eats to how he dresses to the car he drives, all the way up to his job, and how he can’t stay here forever, and how he’ll have to move on eventually.

He argues with Andrew about Neil, for Aaron doesn’t quite agree with Andrew having Neil.

But he doesn’t agree with having Kevin, either.

It’s not vocalized, but Neil can detect it in the finest of details from the scents they emit. Aaron tells a picture-perfect story whenever Kevin walks into the room; hostility and regret and envy, all so sour in the air that it’s enough to make Neil feel sick.

With all these scents everywhere, along with that tenseness, nobody has been able to pick up on Neil’s soon-to-be obvious secret, and for that, he’s thankful.

Andrew pulls Neil away from the kitchen table and up to their bedroom when his irritation over Aaron begins to darken into anger. Neil isn’t finished with his breakfast, but he follows Andrew anyway, thankful to get away.

Once in their room Andrew slams the door closed and stalks off into their bathroom, slamming that door too before he turns on the shower. Neil wants to follow him and comfort him, but Andrew would ask for him if he needed him. He wouldn’t have closed the door.

So Neil sits on their bed and rubs a hand, slowly and soothingly, over his stomach. The stress from breakfast had made his head ache. He hopes it doesn’t make - _them_ ache.

When Andrew comes out of the shower, only a towel slung around his hips, he’s still mad. His feelings are as red as his skin. He pulls open and pushes closed the dresser drawers, hard enough to make Neil flinch from the sound. He whimpers, not meaning to, not even scared, just -

Protective.

Andrew quickly turns around, his shirt held fiercely in one hand. His hard and narrowed eyes immediately soften once he looks at Neil.

“Sorry,” Andrew mumbles, pulling the shirt over his head. “I don’t mean to take my brother out on you. He’s just . . . only an idiot would rightfully believe they have any say in my life after they leave.”

Neil has to force his hand off his stomach, resting it back on the bed. “Why even come here if he’s just going to complain the whole time?”

“Beats me,” Andrew sighs, slipping on his boxers underneath the towel, then pulling on his pants. “Some form of payback, probably. Either way, I’ve had enough of it.”

“How long is he here for?”

“Too long.” Andrew runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face as he sighs again. “I’ve asked Nicky and Renee to take you out today. I have to deal with my brother. You shouldn’t have to.”

Neil freezes up, his mind a mix of confusion, curiosity and fear. Leaving the house after being stuck inside for so long would be refreshing, but being away from Andrew . . .

“I have to go?”

“No.”

Neil thinks longer about it, and decides it would be nice. All he’s been able to think about lately is his baby, Andrew, Aaron, his baby, Andrew, and the fact that nobody else can know, and so - and so he needs to escape, if only for a little bit.

“Okay.”

Andrew pulls Neil forward to kiss his forehead, Neil allowing it only for a moment before he begins to squirm under Andrew’s touch. Andrew pulls away the second he feels hesitation, remaining wordless as he sends Neil a brief yet concerned glance.

It’s not that Neil doesn’t want to be touched. If anything, he wants it even more now, wants to be cared for and held, wants to be pulled against Andrew’s chest and contained in his arms, or be held down by his body and _taken_ , but -

But the closer Andrew is to him, the sooner he’ll realize that something is different.

Sometime later, Neil meets Nicky and Renee at the bottom of the staircase. Nicky’s smile is wide and his outfit is just slightly over-the-top, everything about him so blessedly _normal_ for Nicky that Neil can’t help but smile back at him. He pulls Neil into a hug that Neil knows he can’t escape from and explains their plans for the day.

Renee smiles at him and leads them to the garage, where she drives them to the nearby mall. The familiar scents and sounds bring Neil back to that day of panic, but he remembers it all in the way you recall a bad dream; it wasn’t real, it hadn’t happened, and though it’s scary all the same, it cannot get you.

They visit all the stores that Nicky wants to see first, Neil standing close to Renee as Nicky tries on various items to show off.

The concept of shopping for clothes is still strange to Neil, but one he’ll have to wrap his mind around very soon. Nothing fits anymore. His usual pair of jeans are snug around the thighs and waist, and even his largest shirts will soon be a dead giveaway as to what’s underneath.

Because of that, Neil doesn’t argue when Nicky pressures him into trying things on.

The lighting in the changing room is awful, bright enough to show every little thing wrong with his body. Neil stares at himself in his boxer briefs, studying every line of himself, while the clothes he’s meant to be trying on all sit in a pile beside the mirror.

He doesn’t mind the stretch marks. He already has too many scars to really notice them.

He does mind getting bigger, though, and only because it’s an obvious weakness. A pregnant belly makes him an easier target than he should be, and he _can’t_ be.

“Neil?” Nicky’s voice comes through the door. “Are you almost done? We were thinking about going for lunch soon.”

Neil startles a little, then looks to all the clothes he has to try on. They’re all a few sizes bigger than what he usually buys, so they’ll have to do.

“Be right out,” he calls back, pulling his hoodie back on before gathering up the new clothes. Once the cashier hands him the bag, Neil uses it to shield his belly, feeling more exposed now than before. As if that harsh, bright light is still on him.

The food court is slow enough that Neil can scan every table for familiar faces. He finds none.

They do a lap around the restaurants once to weigh their options, with Nicky and Renee divided. Now that the sick feeling has passed, however, Neil has been craving noodles. Badly. He stops in front of the restaurant to study the menu board, but acts uncaring when Nicky asks if he wants to eat there.

As they eat, Renee and Nicky talk over the table about random, mundane things. Enough to keep the air relaxed and Neil calm. He mostly pays attention to his food, picking out the tiny peas and carrots as he goes along, until Nicky brings up Aaron.

Neil goes still, then continues to poke at his food as he listens.

“I don’t get what’s up with him. He’s always been a dick, but never a huge dick,” Nicky says as he stabs at a piece of orange chicken. “He has this great life at the hospital! He even has a girlfriend! Why show up now and be a total ass?”

Renee hums to herself as she thinks, then places her fork down. “Aaron has been gone for nearly a year now. Not only has a lot changed for him, but quite a bit of change has happened inside the shelter. It’ll take some time for him to adjust.”

“Changes like what? Neil? But Neil is harmless!”

Neil looks up immediately, alarm ringing along his spine. Neither Nicky nor Renee notice.

“Maybe so,” Renee says, and smiles briefly at Neil. “But Aaron’s weariness makes sense if you consider Kevin.”

“What happened with Kevin?” Neil asks suddenly, unable to hold it back. He looks from Nicky to Renee, attempting to feign minor curiosity.

Renee looks hesitant, while Nicky slams both of his hands against the table in shock. “Oh my god, you haven’t heard that story?”

“No,” Neil says, and pushes his food away, no longer hungry.

Nicky finishes swallowing his bite of food before clearing his throat and facing Neil with his entire body.

“So, Kevin was just like you, a stray that we took in. Wymack got the call from another shelter to come and pick him up since he had a broken hand, and we’re the only shelter with an in-house clinic.”

Neil remains still, willing his heart to stop beating so erratically. He feels the need to flee. He finds a way to stay.

“Turns out, Kevin only wanted Andrew specifically. He was running from his old owners, or like, family, I guess, and we’ve got the best legal team in town,” Nicky says with a proud smile, before having to take a deep breath and a sip of water. “But still, when his family came looking for him . . . it wasn’t pretty.”

Neil looks to his hands, clenched up on the table. “What do you mean?”

He must suddenly reek of fear, for Renee settles a hand over his and squeezes it.

“It’s in the past now, Neil, so try not to worry about it. Though it was quite terrifying for those of us living in the shelter, I will admit,” she says calmly, before squeezing Neil’s hand again. “Kevin’s previous guardians were very adamant about Kevin belonging to them, but since he had aged out and wasn’t contractually obligated to them, they couldn’t take him. Andrew made sure of it. He and Wymack spent a lot of time in court.”

“And we got a lot of death threats,” Nicky adds on, somehow still smiling. “Like, _a lot._ We couldn’t take in anybody else until the case was settled. We could barely go outside. I guess that’s why Aaron left right after. He couldn’t take it.”

“Oh,” Neil says, small and quiet. He thinks, but he doesn’t know what to think. It explains Aaron’s entire being, his envy and his hostility. It also explains Kevin. It makes sense of the day he told Neil to run, that if Neil were danger then he would only lead danger to them.

Kevin was scared of going back to wherever he had come from.

Neil can’t blame him for that.

“Yeah, and they were some big, rich hotshots,” Nicky says, eyes widening. “Like, rich enough to buy the shelter out and then some. But Andrew is magic that way, isn’t he?”

Renee laughs, quiet and polite, while Neil looks on in confusion.

“Rich?” Neil asks, and something terrible thumps in his chest. Like a secret you’re not supposed to know.

“ _Rich_ ,” Nicky repeats. “Over from Virginia.”

Neil can’t stand to look at Nicky’s face, all giddy and bright, so he turns to Renee. “What was their name?”

Renee purses her lips in thought, before saying, “The Moriyama’s. They were Kevin’s adopted family after his mother passed.”

Moments earlier Neil thought he couldn’t blame Kevin, for what Kevin had done and said to him.

Now, moments later, Neil goes still from the rage that ruptures through his veins, as his heart beats heavily in jealousy.

Kevin and Neil came from the same place, and ended up in the same place. The only difference is that Kevin is a free man, and Neil is most wanted.

If word ever gets out that he’s under the same roof as Kevin, it will raise a million red flags, ring all the bells, and pin Neil right to the map, ready to be found.

It’s a punch he knew was coming but still couldn’t defend himself against; Neil reels back, pushing himself out of his chair so fast the whole mall spins.

Those men in suits sitting around the table, passing around pens and paper and exchanging words of agreement, they were buying Neil.

Only for Neil to end up in the same place as another one of their misplaced possessions.

“Neil?”

“Can we go?” Neil gasps out, fumbling for his bags. “I need -” It’s terrifying still to admit when he needs Andrew, so he reworks the words until they’re close enough to the truth. “I need to go home.”

To his surprise, Nicky doesn’t protest. He gets up too and rests a hand on Neil’s shoulder to steady him. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. We can go home, okay?”

Neil nods while trembling, feeling as if the moment he begins to walk the floor will disappear from underneath him.

Renee collects the rest of their bags while Nicky leads Neil out of the food court and down the corridor that leads to the parking lot. There are too many shoppers in the way, moving around slowly, as if they live their lives with no sense of danger.

It is all Neil feels.

They’re nearly to the exit when they pass a store that catches Neil’s eye; all soft pink and blue, with gold stars, clouds and baby cartoon animals painted across their windows. Neil stops in his tracks to stare.

Nicky and Renee stop too, with Nicky loosening his hold on Neil while Renee takes a step back.

“I’m going to go and pull the car around,” Renee tells them after a moment, smiling so kindly at Neil that Neil almost feels bad for wanting her to leave. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

Neil doesn’t really hear her. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch the window, not wanting to leave prints anywhere. But it’s all so - cute. From the white crib, the pink blankets, to the pastel-coloured onesies hanging from a display.

Nicky squeezes at Neil’s hand before asking, softly, “Do you want to go in?”

There’s no accusation in his tone. There is no guilt or anger.

So Neil nods slowly, and takes a step inside.

Everything is warm and bright, nearly enough to bring a smile to Neil’s face. One half of the store is dedicated to clothing and pyjamas, while the other half is a display section for cribs, strollers and playpens.

Neil stares around in wonder, amazed by the fact that anybody could be so small.

That something even smaller is currently growing inside of him.

After a minute of aimless walking, Neil finds himself at the wall full of newborn clothes. His eyes are immediately drawn to a blue and yellow onesie, a fox embroidered on the front with tiny blush marks on its cheeks.

He has no clue about sizing. It seems impossible that such a small little outfit could fit anyone, but then, what if it’s too big? How do you even put it on? How many would the baby even need?

“Aww,” Nicky coos from beside him, reaching out to grab the matching hat and socks. “Look how cute!”

“Yeah,” Neil says quietly, and touches the soft material of the onesie, trying to imagine his baby in it.

The thing is, there is no imagining here. It’s an inevitability. Every day that he tries to ignore it and hide it is just another day that his baby grows.

“You should totally get it,” Nicky says, then grabs at another onesie nearby, this one in pink and gold. “And this one.”

The world goes cold around him, cold and quiet. He can only feel Nicky’s eyes on him, and the welling up of his own. His body wants to burst, having been waiting for this, to tell someone, to let someone know.

He sucks in his breath sharply and holds the onesie close to his chest.

He wants to. He needs to. One day he will have to.

“Nicky, I -” He tries to start, but his throat burns and his tongue goes numb as tears spring hot from his eyes. He hasn’t the words to say, because he never thought he would have to say them.

Nicky is quicker than Neil, leaping into action by collecting Neil into his arms and pulling him close.

“Hey, hey,” he says in that soothing voice of his as he strokes through Neil’s hair. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I get it. It’s okay.”

Neil melts into it, having waited forever for somebody to hold him up like this. He shakes apart in Nicky’s arms, feeling so oddly safe.

Once he’s done, his crying reduced to sniffles and hiccups, Nicky smiles and takes the two onesies into his hands before leading Neil over to the cashier. Nicky does all the talking, asking about registries and return policies, distracting the lady from looking at a teary-eyed Neil as he pays.

The cashier hands Nicky the white paper bag, with blue and pink tissue sticking out. Nicky holds it up to Neil in offering, and after sniffling again and wiping his nose, Neil takes it. Nicky shouts out a thank you to the cashier before looping his arm with Neil’s, guiding him out of the store.

Once outside, Neil stops and goes still. “Please don’t tell Andrew.”

Nicky’s warm expression fades, replaced by . . . shock.

“I would never,” he says, the serious tone to his voice nearly chilling. “Like, I know I talk too much, but this? This isn’t for me to tell. Please, please trust me on that.”

“I do,” Neil says through the newly-sprung tears. “I’m just -”

“Scared?”

Neil nearly breaks right in two.

Nicky tucks Neil against him and strokes through his hair. He calms Neil in a way that Andrew doesn’t. It’s explicit care. It’s said so clear. They don’t have to be bonded for Neil to know exactly how Nicky feels.

“Is it alright to talk about it if it’s just us?” Nicky asks once they pull apart.

Neil sniffles and thinks, weighing the cons, only to find there are none.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

Nicky squeals and does a weird little jump, jostling Neil around.

“This is so exciting! Have you picked out any names yet? I personally love the name ‘Nicholas’, but ‘Erik’ is cute, too. Ooh, or how about ‘Brooklyn’ if it’s a girl?”

Neil lets Nicky ramble as they walk to the parking lot, but Nicky drops the topic as soon as they’re in the car, as if it had never come up, as if he hasn’t the slightest clue.

Neil relaxes a little easier in his seat, and stares down at the shopping bag the entire drive home, thinking of possible names.

-

It should’ve been easier to get work done with Neil out of the house.

Not because Neil is a distraction, but because Aaron is when he’s interrogating Neil.

But even with Neil out of the house, Aaron is still an annoyance to Andrew, for the very thought of him sets Andrew on edge.

He claims to have come back to help Abby out in the wellness ward, what with the flu season beginning and the sudden influx of shelter residents coming in. Busy as he is meant to be, the asshole has still found ample time to bother Neil about things Andrew couldn’t care about in the slightest.

It was difficult to send Neil away and out of Andrew’s sight for the day, but if it means keeping him out of his brother’s reach, he had to do it.

Along with running self-defense classes with Renee, he and Wymack lead the legal team. Their offices are on the second floor of the shelter, below the housing units and above the wellness ward.

Most cases are simple; let someone in before getting them out. Most of their residents come with standard contacts, easy to navigate and simple to dismantle. More often than not they have to do with parents who tried and failed to pawn their kids off, or runaways trying to escape an abusive mate.

It wasn’t until Kevin came crashing through their door that Andrew learned how truly fucked up things can be. Mating is meant to be instinctual; you know who you’re meant to be with and you know exactly when. Or, that’s what all the fairytales tell you.

They don’t mention anything about adoptive brothers being dead set on claiming you, or the lengths they will go through to get you back.

Mating, more often that not, is forced.

Knowing that made it all that much harder to accept Neil as his, to even think about touching him and taking him. Andrew spent many nights after they mated replaying everything, retracing every step, trying to find out where he went wrong, where he forced Neil into it.

When you’re breathing, you know you’re breathing. All evidence leads to the truth; in and out, even and steady, fast or slow, rising and falling. That is Neil.

And you can refute the fact that you’re breathing, but soon enough you’re going to realize you haven’t died quite yet.

That’s Neil, too.

So it doesn’t matter what Aaron says. It took too long for Andrew to make up his mind. Nobody in the world can change it.

“Andrew,” Aaron says from the door, not bothering to knock, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he did, for Andrew had been able to detect his brother’s scent the moment he took to the stairs. “You’re alone?”

It’s asked more in shock instead of a genuine question.

“I was,” Andrew says under his breath, closing one folder to open another.

“Where’s your mate?”

“Out for the day. The real question is why this interests you at all.”

Aaron shrugs as he walks into the office, taking a seat in front of the desk. “I’m only asking because it’s a little weird.”

Andrew’s eyebrow quirks as he looks up. “How’s that?”

“Letting him out of the house unsupervised. An omega in his condition shouldn’t be left unattended for that long, don’t you think?”

Andrew drops the file and rests his chin on his now-folded hands, frowning.

“Neil is capable of fending for himself. Besides, he’s not alone; Renee and Nicky are with him.”

But Aaron only nods, as if Andrew is the obtuse one.

“You’re withholding something from me. Spit it out.”

At that, Aaron’s eyes widen, his jaw going as far as to drop momentarily. “You have to know.”

“Aaron.”

“You mean you -”

“Stop. Do not finish that sentence. Start the next.” Andrew stands up from his desk, both of his hands planted against the top to keep himself steady. “Tell me what it is you think I do not know.”

“Neil,” Aaron says, sudden yet unsure, and lets out a hysterical laugh at Andrew’s blank expression. “You do know that Neil is pregnant, right? He must be what, almost two months in now? You haven’t noticed?”

Andrew’s instinct is to refute that, but he can’t summon the words, for he hasn’t fully processed Aaron’s.

Neil is -

No, no he isn’t, because if he were then Andrew _would_ notice. They’re together constantly, never far apart. They sleep side by side. They change in front of one another. They’ve often bathed together, with Neil tucked in between Andrew’s legs. Close, always close, never wanting to be far.

Andrew would have noticed.

But if he hasn’t noticed, then how has Aaron?

Before Andrew can form that question vocally, he’s leaping up onto his desk and then over it, tackling Aaron and pushing him out of the chair, the two of them toppling to the floor.

His twin is smaller and weaker, with Andrew instinctively being the stronger of the two due to his status; he pins Aaron easily to the floor and clamps a hand over his neck to make him go still. Aaron whimpers in defeat, baring his throat before going lax underneath Andrew.

“Tell me how you know,” Andrew snarls, his teeth bared and his eyes burning bright. “Did he tell you? Did you make him tell you?”

“No, I -” Aaron yelps when Andrew shoves a hand against his chest, his claws digging through fabric and into skin. “I just know! I’m a doctor!”

“Not his doctor.”

“I know the signs, I know what to look for!” Aaron tries to block his face from the bite of Andrew’s teeth but is shoved back down again. “I know the scent, Andrew! I’ve been working in a hospital for the past year. He reeks of it. That’s why I thought you knew.”

An alpha’s sense of smell will never be as keen as a beta or omega’s, but with how close they are, Andrew should’ve noticed the shift in Neil’s. Except with Neil bathing in Andrew’s soap and wearing Andrew’s clothes, it was impossible for Andrew to detect that difference.

Andrew jerks away from Aaron, growling and grumbling - but mostly to himself.

As he catches his breath, he tries to catch up on his thoughts. They’re rampant, jumping from one direction to the next, over and over and over.

Neil is - _pregnant_.

It either means that Neil isn’t aware yet, or that he is aware and has made the decision to not tell Andrew.

Neil is pregnant, with Andrew’s pup, and that means -

Andrew hasn’t thought that far ahead. It took this long to convince himself he was worthy of a mate, that anyone could actually want to be his. Neil tore apart Andrew’s vision of life, arranged everything into sense while also completely disassembling it, and even when Neil was real and warm beside him, Andrew couldn’t classify him as real.

How the fuck is he meant to wrap his mind around this?

“Like I said, he must be about two months along now. Pregnancies in male omegas typically last between six and seven months. He isn’t showing from what I can see, so maybe he doesn’t know. I don’t know. I try to look at him as little as possible.”

“You said he shouldn’t be left unattended. Why’s that?” He already has his body angled toward the door, waiting for the worst.

Aaron shrugs. “He’s a pregnant male omega. I’m a doctor. I have to be a realist and assume the worst.”

Andrew has his phone out in a blink, hitting Nicky’s name and trying not to curse when Nicky doesn’t pick up on the very first ring for once.

But he does on the second.

“Andrew?”

“Bring Neil home. Now.”

“Uh -”

“ _Now_ , Nicky.”

“We’re already in the car. Is everything al-”

Andrew hangs up once he knows where Neil is and that he’ll be back soon.

Sure, fine.

If Neil can’t tell him, or doesn’t want to tell him, then that is his prerogative. Andrew made a promise to protect him, and if it means protecting his secrets . . . then Andrew will just have to accept that.

-

Andrew waits in their bedroom for Neil, not wanting to raise any red flags by stalking the front door for him. Neil would know that something is wrong, might run, might hide from him.

He busies himself with adjusting their furniture; for some reason their bed was pushed against the furthest wall, not even centered properly, and he stubbed his damned toe on the corner of the dresser because it was moved right next to their door.

When he can hear Nicky before he can even sense Neil, he take it as a sign of Neil’s return. He picks up the book nearest him to calm his suddenly-restless fingers, skimming through it to simply look busy when Neil comes in.

The door unlocks, opening slowly, Neil poking his head in first before his body. “Hey.”

Andrew nods in greeting before turning back to his book, pretending to read the dozens of words before him as Neil drops a few shopping bags by their closet, then steps out of his shoes and takes off his jacket before pulling on one of Andrew’s hoodies.

“Good day?” Andrew asks, setting the book aside and giving Neil his attention, whether Neil wants it or not.

“It was nice,” Neil says, sounding distant. “Nicky made me try on a million outfits.”

Or maybe he isn’t distant, and maybe Andrew is overthinking all of this now. Looking for things that aren’t there to distract himself from what is there.

“Sounds like Nicky.”

“Then he made me buy all of it.”

“Sounds like Nicky.”

Neil laughs - but it’s more quiet than any of his previous laughs, because Andrew remembers them all - before turning around and frowning. “You moved the bed?”

Well, Andrew had moved the bed a whole five inches to make it more centered, so he frowns, too.

“It was crooked.”

“It was fine.”

“It didn’t need to be moved in the first place,” Andrew says, and though he isn’t angry, not really, not at Neil but with the situation, he feels heat build up in his throat. “Neither did the dresser.”

Neil crosses his arms, defensive from head to toe as he says, “It did to me.”

“Fine. I’ll move it back if you tell me why you moved it.”

“Screw you,” Neil spits, frustration red around his face. “I just - I just wanted it there.”

Andrew rolls his eyes and sighs, mostly to himself, knowing he won’t get anywhere by making Neil upset, won’t pull any sort of confession from him. Instead he goes to their closet to pull out a towel, swinging it over his shoulder.

“You need a bath. You smell too much like Nicky.”

He’s met with an odd silence, but when he reaches for the bathroom doorknob, Neil lets out a sudden angry and heaving breath. Andrew barely has time to turn around before there’s the sound of metal scraping loud against hardwood floor

Ever the idiot, Neil is holding onto a bedpost to push the bed back into the position it once was in.

If Andrew were alotted enough time to roll his eyes, he would, but has to instead drop the towel and rush toward Neil to pry his hands off of the bedpost, cursing him between each breath.

“Neil,” Andrew growls, grabbing both of Neil’s arms to try and still his hands. “Stop -”

Neil only holds on tighter, his expression crumpled and his scent a misarray of upset and anger.

“I need - I can’t -”

“ _Stop_.”

“It can’t be like this!”

“Stop. You’re okay.”

Neil stops resisting Andrew but doesn’t let go of the bed, his hands weak around the wooden post, and standing like this, Andrew pushed entirely against Neil’s back, their bodies are lined up in ways they’ve been before.

The scents in the air - frustration, determination, jealousy, envy and anger - all form into one, hardening between them.

Neil looks over his shoulder at Andrew, at his eyes and then at his lips. “Andrew,” he says, drawn out and low. “I’m -”

“You’re okay,” Andrew repeats, and pets down Neil’s back. He turns Neil around until they’re face to face, and to deny this feeling when they’re looking right at one another would be impossible. “Yes?”

It’s a question, one they’re already answering by leaning into one another, Neil’s mouth ready for the kiss Andrew gives him. Neil breaks, letting out a wrecked gasp as their lips touch. His hands go to Andrew’s shoulders, as Andrew’s hands press against the small of Neil’s back.

Andrew kisses Neil until his anger changes into need, because Andrew can answer Neil’s needs. It’s what he was built for. He knows where to touch, where to be delicate and where to be hard, Andrew the player and Neil the card.

Or, Andrew thinks that, until he tries to lift Neil’s sweater off of him and is abruptly bit against his neck.

Andrew hisses, his expression vexed as he pulls his hands away from Neil, taking a step back.

“Keep it on,” Neil says simply, folding his arms over his chest to protect himself, acting as if Andrew hasn’t seen every part of him before, hasn’t had him naked between his legs. Still, Andrew huffs in agreement, his hands folding up into the material of Neil’s sweater, only so he can pull Neil forward until they’re closer and kissing again.

Instinct has always felt like listening to an older version of himself, someone who’s lived his entire life already and knows what to do. Right now, however, instinct is up in the air, just as confused as Andrew is.

Because he has control in his hands, but instead of using it to touch Neil, he wants to give it to Neil.

So he does, by taking each of Neil’s hands and raising them to his head, allowing Neil to dig his fingers through Andrew’s hair. Andrew drops his own hands to his sides, and the feeling would be so foreign and frightening if he were giving it up to anyone else.

Neil gasps against Andrew’s mouth, maybe not as big of an idiot as Andrew makes him out to be, for he figures it out, takes the control and uses it. With a forceful push, he backs Andrew up against the bed until Andrew falls over the edge, landing on his back.

Neil climbs up, settling himself over Andrew’s lap as he immediately seeks out Andrew’s mouth again.

It’s like the world has been flipped, with everything working backwards. For once Andrew is at a loss, trusting in his mate to take the lead and fill in the blanks.

Neil’s kiss grows insistent, with Neil whining into Andrew’s mouth as his grip in Andrew’s hair tightens. Andrew keeps his hands pinned down, wanting Neil to direct his every touch. That way, he can’t touch the wrong spot.

“A-Andrew,” Neil gasps, and he’s right above Andrew but he sounds so far away. He lowers his hips, gasping again as he presses himself against Andrew, his gasp turning into a moan as he finds a rhythm against Andrew’s thigh.

He’s a beautiful sight like that, all weak and wrecked, desperate but demanding.

Andrew just has to have him.

As fast as Neil ruts himself against Andrew, he doesn’t come. He whines and moans, as if he’s close, but each thrust forward equals two steps back. His moans become more pained, needy, his thrusts more shaky.

“I-I can’t -” Neil cries, his eyes welling up. “I n-need - help.”

A wild, carnal emotion rips through Andrew’s chest, breaking each rib before capturing his heart in a feral beat. His given control comes back to him, so right in his hands as he holds Neil’s face between them and kisses him, open-mouthed and wanting.

It’s all so right, like this were planned. Not by either of them, but by evolution, how hydrogen bonds with oxygen, how nobody decided that but fact.

Andrew’s brain hasn’t felt balanced all day, a mess of feelings and directions to go in. This hasn’t been one of them, but somehow it feels as if they’ve been heading here all along. It hurts suddenly, somewhere inside of him. Aches. As if he should’ve been pushed deep inside Neil hours ago, and his body can’t understand why he isn’t so right now.

So with one easy push, Andrew has Neil on his back against the bed, with Andrew the one on top again. Satisfaction vibrates through his chest at the sight of Neil helpless. For him. Only helpless for Andrew, because Andrew is the only one who can help him.

He kisses underneath Neil’s jaw, over his pulse point, before flipping Neil onto his stomach so that they can be closer where they need to be closer. His hands fold with Neil’s against the bed, as Neil’s body curves to fit Andrew’s. He rocks his hips forward, finding a perfect pace for the both of them.

Neil makes small noises with each of Andrew’s thrusts, tiny mewls and moans that make Andrew feel _right_.

The restriction and friction of their jeans soon becomes annoying rather than arousing. With a growl, Andrew pulls Neil’s down to his thighs, while pushing his down just enough to free himself. With no more room between them, Neil gasps at the feel of Andrew’s cock against him.

That nearly drives Andrew forward, all this freedom, feeling so wild with how much he needs him. But he still stops, his mouth above Neil’s neck, where he asks between gritted teeth, “Yes?”

Neil nods fervently, breathing tight and high and unevenly against the bedsheet. “Y-yes - _hurry_.”

It hasn’t felt this urgent since - since Andrew felt like he _couldn’t_. When he was on his knees out in the hall, wanting more than anything to be on the other side of the door with Neil, in Neil, for Neil.

Andrew continues to push his hips forward, mostly blind with his thrusts, not aiming for anything besides pleasure. He paints Neil’s skin with his scent and his claim, cementing it all as fact. His, his, his, all his, Neil is only helpless for _him_ -

This intensity nearly resembles how it felt when Neil was in heat, but even a heat can be planned. This isn’t, this is random and rampant, just as right but all without reason.

Neil doesn’t take long to get ready, accepting part of Andrew before accepting all of him. It’s obvious when they’re like this that they’re meant for one another. Otherwise their hands have to be magnetic, the way they cling so tightly together.

They stay that way, back to chest, hand to hand, as Andrew fucks Neil hard enough to make the bed creak. They’re being loud, Andrew knows, but only so everyone else knows that this is his, theirs, no one else’s.

Then he thinks a thought that can’t be taken back, for once he thinks it, his body begins to form it.

Andrew immediately pulls away from Neil, his own heart sinking at the cold and empty feeling of being separated, but he needs at least a moment of clarity to think. “I -” but his mouth has gone dry, and words feel so useless here. Instinct isn’t enough of an answer; Andrew needs to hear Neil say it. “Yes or no?”

Neil whimpers, his small figure beginning to tremble, struggling just as hard as Andrew had.

“ _Y-yes,_ ” Neil says, and it’s quiet but it sounds like a fact.

Andrew’s chest rumbles in contentment, so pleased. He takes Neil, and Neil begs for him, and while it cools Andrew’s fever and clears their air, all too soon their desperation returns, the heat becomes clawing, and relief is only setting, not dawning.

Their bodies demand they go faster, further, and while logic says to be more gentle, careful with Neil’s body, instinct says it’s alright, that Neil can handle it. He wouldn’t be Andrew’s match if he couldn’t go just as fast.

So they continue to meet in a collision, only to be tragically ripped apart. Over and over, always coming back together.

When Andrew does slow, the rest of his knot starting to form, Neil growls and tosses a look over his shoulder at Andrew. “No, keep - keep going.”

Andrew leans down to snarl in Neil’s ear, the idiot. One day Neil will die from being so stubborn, Andrew swears it. He pushes the base of his knot against Neil’s hole, causing Neil to go still with realization. He’s about to be knotted. They _have_ to go slow now.

They do go slow, their pulses calming to match one another’s, their hearts soon beating in sync. There is no more anger, no more tension. It’s just completeness, connection, because they can’t do this alone, because they want to do this together.

Neil whines when Andrew finally pushes forward, his knot still small, but so hard and swollen. A deepening ache forms inside of Andrew the longer _he_ isn’t fully inside of Neil.

“A-Andrew-” Neil gasps, his voice gone raspy, breathy, when Andrew’s knot finally fits inside of him. His cry is empty because the rest of him is full. “ _Fuck_.”

Neil cursing does something to Andrew, turns this into something so primitive yet so human, so - _dirty_. He squeezes Neil’s hip with one hand and pushes harder against him, grinding himself against Neil’s ass so that Neil feels it, all of it, all of him.

And Andrew takes every worry and doubt, transforming it into something else, using it to fuel the way his body fits against Neil’s.

“It’s s-so - good -” Neil whispers, voice torn out from moaning. “Don’t leave. _Don’t_.”

Close enough to bite the back of Neil’s neck, Andrew does just that, then soothes it with a kiss.

“I won’t.”

Neil sobs, some sort of wrecked sound, as if he had actually thought that Andrew would leave him. Andrew wraps his arms around Neil’s chest to remind him that he won’t because he can’t; they’re tied together, from their hands to their feet.

With his lips pressed to Neil’s neck, feeling his pulse and tasting his skin, drowned in Neil’s scent, Andrew comes. He groans, loud and broken and open, his hips surging forward as he shakes apart.

Neil covers Andrew’s hand on his chest, squeezing it tight as he bears down on Andrew’s knot. Andrew can feel himself leaking against his own thighs, against Neil’s, growling at the sensation of losing it.

To soothe Neil, but to also soothe himself, Andrew kisses Neil’s neck, then drags his fingers down his chest and over his stomach, knowing that Neil still hasn’t come yet.

Only for Neil to freeze before violently jerking underneath Andrew’s touch.

“No!” he shouts, grabbing hard at Andrew’s wrist and tearing it off of him. “Not th- it’s fine, I’m fine, just - don’t.”

And though he had just begged Andrew to stay with him, Neil pulls himself away.

It has to hurt, for Neil flinches and cries as his body rips from Andrew’s. Like bending a limb in a direction it’s not meant to go in.

“Neil,” Andrew tries, his voice stern, his order clear. _Stop_.

But Neil isn’t tethered to him anymore, so far from his skin. Out of breath and shivering, Neil pulls his clothes back into place and wraps his arms around his chest, holding himself the way Andrew is meant to hold him.

“I’m fine,” Neil says again, wiping at his teary eyes, and the false smile he gives Andrew makes a mess out of instinct, for Andrew has no idea what to do with that. He turns for the bathroom, not so much as glancing back at Andrew before he slams the door shut.

Andrew would call out his name and go to him, demand to be let in, if he knew it weren’t futile. He doesn’t know how to get around the wall between them. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed.

It felt permanent, when Neil gave Andrew that key, when he said yes to Andrew. He nearly let himself believe in a forever, a world where all he had to do was ask.

He should have known it was temporary.

Everything he has usually is.

-

Neil sits in the shower. He doesn’t have the energy for a bath, to just lay there in silence, but he doesn’t have the energy to stand, either.

His stomach feels tight, his earlier arousal never having peaked. Andrew would’ve had to touch him, might have had to see the front of Neil naked in order to make him come. Neil couldn’t risk it, despite how good it had all felt.

It was so sudden, like all the lights turning on without notice, awakening him when he had just been in a deep sleep. It felt like his heat, without being in heat.

Just as desperate, but in control, his mind making the decisions instead of his instincts.

As the shower beats off his skin, Neil trails a hand down his stomach, terrified by the tiny curve of it.

Earlier today he was amazed how anything could be so small, fragile and defenseless. Now he wonders how anything so small could be so dangerous, to lives so much bigger, to bodies so much more built.

He washes away Andrew’s come and his sweat, but the scent clings to Neil, and despite his hysteria, Neil is thankful for that.

Andrew said he would stay, that he wouldn’t leave. Would he go now? He should, shouldn’t he?

Neil’s always had a target on his back. Now he has one on his front.

Neil believed in Andrew’s words, his promises, that he would keep Neil safe and keep Neil his.

But would he still say the same if he knew this?

-

After his shower, and after the bed has been remade with clean sheets and blankets, Neil curls up under the covers and tries to sleep. Andrew turns his desk fan on, circulating the air and creating a calming hum that puts Neil at ease. He hates silence.

Andrew doesn’t talk to him and stays at his desk, reading the book he’d been reading earlier in between looks at Neil. One thing Neil hates more than silence is being watched, but when it’s Andrew watching him, it doesn’t feel scrutinizing. It only feels calming.

It’s a dreamless sleep, however long it is. Once his eyes are closed he’s out until they open again, the morning sun hitting their window in a way that says it’s long past dawn. Downstairs Neil can hear the clattering of dishes and the low murmur of voices, the smell of coffee strong in the air.

“We don’t have to join them,” Andrew says once he notices that Neil’s awake. “I can bring you up a plate.”

Neil rubs at his bleary eyes, a weak smile forming. “No, I’m fine. We can go.”

Because he has to be fine, for what else could he be?

Andrew nods his head slightly before closing his book - and while he hasn’t moved an inch, he hasn’t moved a page, either. Meaning Andrew stayed awake without reading a single page, and watched Neil instead.

It fills Neil with warmth, like a hot hand holding his heart. Pumping his blood and keeping him breathing.

He feels silly. He feels almost - _giddy_ , that hand around his heart giving it a squeeze.

As they go to leave their room, Neil wraps a tentative hand around Andrew’s elbow and sidles up closer to him, his alpha, his protector against everything - including himself.

The kitchen is full when they enter, the shelter’s entire staff milling about, pouring coffee and cooking breakfast. Nicky greets Andrew and Neil with a cheerful, “Good morning!” while Allison eyes Neil sharply over the edge of her coffee mug, one eyebrow arched.

It must be a sixth sense for her, somehow knowing whenever Neil and Andrew have had sex with each other. Or maybe she can tell by the sudden blush to Neil’s cheeks as he tries to hide behind Andrew. He doesn’t really know.

Andrew pays Allison no mind, but keeps Neil close to him anyway. He grabs a clean plate from the dishrack, and goes to grab a second one before he stops and looks to Neil. He shakes his head, and Andrew nods, guiding Neil over to the stove and serving them both food on the same plate.

Andrew eats, while Neil picks at their shared plate. His appetite has returned, but it wasn’t ever much to begin with. This makes it easier. He doesn’t have to feel bad for taking too much, but doesn’t have to feel bad for eating too little. It works for Andrew, it works for Neil.

“You guys are so cute,” Nicky says from across the table, his chin planted on top of his hands, his mouth pulled into a pout. “Like a tiny old married couple.”

Neil manages a small smile, while Andrew just sneers, not angry but annoyed. “I’m eating, he’s eating. That’s it.”

“Yeah, Nicky,” Aaron says from where he sits at the end of the table, only a large cup of coffee in front of him. “Except I think Neil’s more like a stray cat, don’t you think? Stealing his food off people’s plates, sulking around like he’s afraid of being shooed away. But what do I know? I’m a doctor, not a vet.”

Having felt some semblance of safety all morning, although temporary, Neil goes still at the implication in Aaron’s tone. It’s not teasing, not joking, nothing good-natured about it. It’s said to burst Neil’s bubble of bliss, and they both know it.

His hand starts to tremble where it rests on his leg, the idea of confrontation terrifying in the presence of so many alphas.

But Neil wouldn’t have gotten this far if he couldn’t fight.

So he fights.

“You do know I’m Andrew’s mate, right?” Neil asks Aaron, doing his best to sound dumbfounded. “It’s fine if it bothers you. I know it’s probably because you don’t have a mate of your own. Maybe you need a reminder then? You’re Andrew’s twin, not his clone.”

Neil’s words and Neil’s tone earn a few shocked glances his way, but Neil only shrugs, ignoring the trembling of his hand.

“Fuck you,” Aaron spits, his pale face flushing with anger. “Don’t act like you know me, and don’t act like you know Andrew.”

Neil’s smirk just then feels like it’s about to split his face. “Weird. I didn’t take you for a hypocrite.”

Andrew moves a hand to cover Neil’s on top of his thigh, while placing his other hand on the tabletop, as if creating a barrier between Neil and his brother, but remains silent, watching and calculating.

Aaron laughs uneasily before standing up from the table, looking at each face that sits around it.

“Come on, you guys don’t find this weird?” he asks with a grand hand gesture, first at Kevin and then at Neil. “First this one shows up, begging Andrew for help. Then _he_ shows up not even a year later, asking for the same thing!”

Kevin bows his head, his emotions so potent they’re nearly enough to make Neil whimper.

“And you know what the only difference is?” Aaron scoffs, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “You bent over for him.”

Then it doesn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, who stood between Aaron and Neil; he’s out of his seat and reaching for Aaron within seconds, knocking over glasses, plates and silverware. “Fuck you! You don’t know anything!”

“That’s my point!” Aaron shouts, words spluttered out in anger. “ _Who are you? What do you want?_ ”

Renee is quick to stand, holding herself carefully between either ends of the table; a mediator. “Aaron, that’s what our shelter does,” she says, as calmly as ever. “We accept those who need us, regardless of who they are or where they come from.”

Aaron’s laugh is infuriating, with how skeptical he sounds, how smug. “Yeah, alright, fine,” he says, with a sigh and a smile, directed entirely at Neil. “I guess it’s just weird that you haven’t told Andrew you’re knocked up yet.”

If anything is said right after that, and if anyone looks at Neil then, he can’t hear it or see it. Can’t feel it. Can’t do anything. It rings. Something is ringing. It’s the firing of the gun, the sound ricocheting off the walls. It’s all his blood, suddenly rushing.

Beside Neil, Andrew is still and quiet, though his body is locked and loaded, just another gun ready to fire.

“I’m - I’m not -”

“You haven’t told him yet because you know how fucked you are, and you know Andrew can’t do anything about it,” Aaron says, shaking his head as he regards Neil, seeing right through Neil. “You’re a danger, you know it, and you know this is only going to make it worse.”

Neil gasps suddenly, only realizing then that he had stopped breathing. Air only hurts. He doesn’t deserve it.

Lost, he looks to Nicky, who has tears in his eyes as he shakes his head, babbling out, “Neil, I _swear_ I didn’t say anything, _I promise_ -”

Neil hears it, but he doesn’t register it.

The next one to look at is Andrew.

To prepare himself, Neil conjures up the worst before facing him.

Nothing could prepare him for the look Andrew gives him, almost identical to Aaron’s, like he can see right through him.

“Andrew,” Neil says in a broken whisper, close enough to a sob. “I didn’t - I was going to - I didn’t know how - no wait, _Andrew_.”

Neil sobs then, broken and pure, as Andrew pulls his hand away from Neil and stands up from the table. All of Neil’s instincts scream at him, beg him to latch on, to soothe and comfort his alpha, to plead for his forgiveness.

But Neil knows Andrew outside of instinct, too, so he knows that Andrew doesn’t want to be touched.

Andrew’s last look is for his brother, who stands furious yet victorious at the end of the table, before he turns around and walks out of the kitchen. Neil stays where he is, both hands curled around the edge of the table to keep himself upright, his chest heaving with his cry.

With how loud his heart beats, Neil doesn’t notice the silence of the kitchen. His entire world narrows down into this; breathing, while wishing he couldn’t.

“You’re welcome,” Aaron says, and if Neil had a clear sense of mind maybe he’d notice the hint of guilt in Aaron’s voice, but he doesn’t. Aaron takes his coffee mug to the sink to rinse it, ignoring all of the eyes on him. “I was just doing you a favour, cutting to the inevitable.”

“You had no right!” Nicky yells, getting out of his seat to face his cousin. “That was Neil’s surprise to tell, not yours!”

“Just what every alpha wants to hear, huh? ‘Surprise! I told your cousin before I told you!’ Yeah, sure, there’s nothing weird about that at all.”

“Why does it matter so much to you? Neil hasn’t done anything wrong to you! He’s your brother’s mate. Why can’t you just be happy for them?”

Neil blinks away his tears so he can look at the two, steadying his breathing so he can speak.

“Because he’s right,” Neil says, and it hurts. Everyone in the room looks at him, but no one reaches out to touch. “I came here for a reason. I stayed for a reason. I thought -” He sniffles and wipes at his nose, but his eyes won’t stop watering. “I thought I could stay, that Andrew would - protect me. It was selfish.”

“No, Neil, it wasn’t -”

“But it is! Maybe I would’ve been safe if it were just me, but -” His hands go to his stomach, no longer a secret. “It isn’t anymore.”

“Neil, you and Andrew aren’t alone,” Renee says, calm yet direct. “You both have all the resources this shelter has to offer. _We_ will keep you safe.”

And though it’s kind, Neil can only laugh.

“And that’s exactly his problem,” Neil says, with a nod to a silent, stone-faced Aaron. “I could get you all killed. And for what? I’m just one person.” He shrugs, and all out of words and all out of breath, he only wants to collapse and never stand back up again. He should go find Andrew, he knows, but maybe . . . maybe this is for the best.

Leave me before I have to leave you, and all that.

Nicky’s face crumples again, tears steady down his face, but Neil can’t bear to look at him anymore. He can’t look at any of them, not Kevin and especially not Aaron. So despite the cries of his name, Neil turns swiftly for the exit.

His mind doesn’t know where to go but his feet carry him through the lobby and into the wellness ward.

There are no colours, no scents, no cues on which direction to go in. Nothing makes sense. He doesn’t know where he is, which means he can never be found.

He cries. He breathes. He thinks and he pleads and he wavers between the thought of staying or the need to leave.

And then, all out of breath and energy, he falls asleep.

-

For someone who’s been on the run a majority of his life, Neil isn’t that good at it anymore. He wakes up in Abby’s office, of all places, with a blanket placed over him and a cup of water set aside.

If he were to run again, out there in the real world, it would be a harsh wakeup call.

Still, he pulls the blanket up over his shoulders and reaches for the water, his throat dry from crying and shouting.

The only other scents in the room besides familiarity are Abby’s and Kevin’s, with Kevin’s being more recent and nearby. He’s most likely in the lobby of the clinic. Neil stiffens as he waits, knowing Kevin will be in soon enough, for whatever reason.

And like magic, there’s a knock on the door, quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Neil asks, despite knowing that it’s Kevin. He holds his cup close and his shoulders hunched, too tired to flee or fight.

Kevin opens the door, his head bowed and his scent uneasy. “Hey.”

“I don’t feel like talking,” Neil says in way of greeting. He’s talked enough already. “Not to you.”

Kevin snorts as he sits down in Abby’s desk chair, and Neil’s never noticed before, but Kevin looks entirely out of place no matter where he goes. Like he’s jamming himself into a puzzle with too-small pieces.

Neil feels that way, too.

“That’s alright. I don’t know what to say.”

“Then why are you here?”

Kevin folds his arms, looking a little more in control.

“Because something still needs to be said.”

Something so bold and true is jarring to hear, coming from Kevin. Neil flinches back a little, unsure now if Kevin is something to be afraid of.

But nothing follows, no words or vexed glances. Kevin simply regards Neil from where he sits, and Neil does the same with him.

“You don’t look pregnant,” Kevin suddenly says, that arrogant face of his beginning to frown. “How far along are you?”

Neil scowls, pulling the blanket down to cover his stomach better. “Far enough for Aaron to figure it out.”

“He’s a doctor.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Kevin shrugs, as if undecided.

“Are you scared?”

Still thinking of Aaron, Neil goes to refute that, only to realize what Kevin isn’t saying, and what he is. “I’m not - oh.” He moves one hand to touch his belly, the curve of it not so hidden anymore. “Um, I don’t know. I haven’t had much time to actually think about it.”

Kevin scoffs, one dark brow rising. “Why not?”

“Other things on my mind, I guess,” Neil answers, and then feels almost shameful. His entire mind has been focused on Andrew, on Aaron, on things and people who shouldn’t matter. So he thinks about it now, his baby, his growing belly, his life, and decides that no . . . “But no, I’m not scared.”

He’s scared of what this means, of what this can do, of how this can destroy - but those are all things he can’t control, will never be able to control, will never know how to work around.

This . . . this makes simple sense. Like how he knew he was pregnant before he was told he was pregnant.

“I’ll know what to do when it happens. Instinct, and all that.”

Kevin nods, looking thoughtfully at the ground. “Hm,” he hums, then takes in a deep breath. “Don’t you think then, that Andrew will know what to do, too?”

It feels and sounds like an attack, so vicious that Neil jerks back, bracing his arm across his belly as if to defend himself from Kevin.

“ _No_ , this is _not_ the same,” he snaps, mouth curled back in a snarl. “This is different. This - this can get him killed. If my father finds out about this - no, no. It won’t just be Andrew. It could be any of you.”

Kevin tilts his head when he looks at Neil, calculating yet confused.

“Then why did you come back?”

Neil opens his mouth to answer, only to promptly close it. “What?”

“When you ran, you came back because Andrew told you to,” Kevin continues. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t know! I didn’t know that the same people after me were the ones who had you,” Neil cries, and he would get to his feet if he had the energy to. “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have come back. I wouldn’t do that you, to any of you.”

“You would have.” And Kevin never sounds like he has a backbone, but from here he towers over Neil. “Because Andrew asked, and it was your instinct to answer.”

“No -”

“ _Yes_ , Neil,” Kevin snaps, his teeth barred. “It’s not wrong. If it were, you wouldn’t have done it, and Andrew - he wouldn’t have promised it. You have to believe him.”

“ _Why?_ My being here only means danger for the rest of you. Who’s going to stop your family from coming back for you if Andrew isn’t here? If he’s dead trying to protect me?”

“That’s exactly my point,” Kevin says, and shakes his head, rubs his eyes, so tired, sounding so far away from here. “You have to believe him. If you don’t . . . if _you_ don’t believe him, then we’re all dead. You’re his mate. Out of all of us, you should trust him the most to protect you.”

Neil breathes, harsh and unsteady, still protectively holding his belly. He wants to understand it, but it’s too much to comprehend.

“Aren’t you scared?” Neil asks, because he knows Kevin, so he knows Kevin’s fears. “We come from the same place. If I go back, you’ll go back, too. Why don’t you just make me leave again?”

“Because, idiot, if I don’t believe that Andrew can come through on his promise to you, it means I have no faith in his promise to _me_.”

And that is all Kevin has.

The fury is red in the room, burning Neil’s nose. It clings to the air, tearing apart the silence into something violent. The truth isn’t pretty, all mashed up, an ugly sort of honesty. Neil wants to ask for directions, for a clue, but the more he thinks about it the more he knows it’s something he already knew.

Accepting Andrew’s promise means accepting the possibility of losing Andrew, but with all the faith that he won’t.

“Is he . . ?” Neil starts to ask, afraid of the answer, of where Andrew went.

“He’s here. He didn’t go far.”

Neil nods as Kevin gets up for the door, then directs his attention down to his stomach.

A smile forms, gentle across his face as he thinks.

In a perfect world, this might be a perfect situation. He’d be pregnant, and Andrew would be the first to know, and they’d have a house with another bedroom and a backyard, and nobody would want to see their blood on the walls, and they could be together, because nobody would be trying to tear them apart, not even each other.

“And yes,” Kevin says, glancing over his shoulder as he stands in the doorway. “He wants to see you, too.”

-

Neil stays inside Abby’s office for a few more hours, until the shelter settles down. The footsteps slow and then stop, the voices go from a low murmur to a complete hush, the sun setting and the stars shining. Quiet.

He feels sick. With nerves, dread, fear, excitement. His hands stay on his belly, rubbing soothing circles across it, feeling calm whenever his insides feel calm. Whenever _she_ feels calm.

Once it’s nighttime, Neil gets up and silently tiptoes out of the clinic and through the wellness ward. The shelter is eerily quiet, setting Neil on edge. He keeps to the walls, takes slow steps, mindful of which floorboards creak and which step on the staircase makes the most noise.

There’s only one person he wants to see, and so there’s only person he wants to see him.

But he isn’t in their room.

There’s no scent indicating that Andrew had ever been back to their room. His dread returning, Neil forgets silence in favour of quickness. He goes back down the hall and to the lobby, does a quick check of the kitchen before nearly checking the backyard - until it hits him.

The garage lights are on, the temperature frigid. Music is playing faintly, leading Neil to Andrew’s car in the far corner, where Andrew sits in the driver’s seat, a cigarette in his hand.

Relief wars with dread, before they both take up precedence in Neil’s chest. He breathes it out, then opens the passenger door, sliding into the empty seat.

Only to immediately start coughing from the smoke that surrounds him. He should be used to the scent, what with wearing Andrew’s clothes and being constantly near Andrew’s body, but this close the smoke is like an assault on all of his senses.

Andrew gives him a flat look, then tosses the cigarette out of the cracked window before reaching for the door handle, as if to get out.

“Wait -” Neil yelps, nearly throwing himself across the console to rest a hand on Andrew’s arm.

Andrew does stop, but heaves out a great sigh as his eyes roll back. “You’re pregnant. I’m not letting you breath in this smoke, idiot. We can do this elsewhere.”

Relief pushes dread over, only slightly, for Neil still breathes loud with it.

“I’m fine,” he says, and cringes when Andrew’s glare burns him. “I mean - it’ll be fine, for now, okay?”

Andrew says nothing, but rolls down his window further, until there’s a flow of outside air coming in, then settles back in his seat, giving his full yet flat attention to Neil.

Neil feels as if the world is watching him. He takes in a shaky breath, nervous, before remembering that Andrew is the safest place in the form of a person, so he looks right at him.

“You already knew,” Neil says, half statement, half question. “Did Aaron tell you?”

Andrew nods. “You’re two months along.”

Neil blinks. “He’s good.”

“How many months have you known?”

“One.”

“How many more months until you were going to tell me?”

Neil flinches, all of his instincts telling him to soothe and comfort - not just Andrew, and not just himself. He places a hand on his belly, willing his sudden stress to fade away.

“I should have said it the second I knew it.”

“Should have, could have, would have.”

“I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of losing you.”

There’s a beat of silence, where Andrew’s expression transforms from unamused to unimpressed.

“In other words, you don’t trust me,” Andrew says, his voice hardening as his eyes go dark, serious as the beat of Neil’s heart. When he looks at Neil like that, Neil forgets why he ever wanted to hide this. “How do you not get it yet? I don’t care if your father shows up now, tonight, tomorrow. I don’t care if it’s a week from now or ten years from now. You’re mine. You’re staying here. I promised, so I will keep promising.”

“But -” Neil chokes on his words, all his fear stuck in his throat. “What about her? Can you promise her the same?”

Andrew’s blank face breaks. “Her?”

“I don’t know,” Neil says with a laugh, teary and weak. “I’m just guessing.”

“She’s ours,” Andrew says with a shrug. “It’s as simple as that.”

“You say it’s all simple, and you make it look simple . . . but how is that fair to you? To all of us? Me, you, your brother, Kevin and Nicky, this entire shelter - we all need you. It isn’t fair.”

“I don’t care about fair. If I thought for a second that I couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t.”

Neil thinks about instinct. How the wrongest thing turns out to be right. How it isn’t ever really wrong to begin with.

“Okay,” Neil says, and then he starts to cry.

His arms immediately go up to loop around Andrew’s neck, his relief so strong it has the power to break him. Andrew is just as quick to grab Neil back, fiercely, one hand fisted in his hair, the other clutching Neil’s back.

They don’t kiss, no need for it. Neil keeps himself tucked safely against Andrew’s neck, and it says more than any other touch ever could.

“Do you want to see?” Neil asks, sniffling, as he nudges his nose off of Andrew’s. At his nod, Neil pulls his sweater up to his chest, exposing his stomach. He breathes a little quicker, but he’s not nervous, because he feels nothing but calm. “I’m going to get big. Like - really big.”

Andrew’s lips twitch, as if in an attempt to smile. He goes to touch before abruptly stopping and meeting Neil’s eyes instead. In answer, Neil takes hold of Andrew’s hand and guides it to his belly, allowing Andrew to touch the two of them.

He feels safe. Completely.

For he only has two hands to hold her, but Andrew has two more. So maybe they might just make it, after all.

“I’m not scared,” Neil says in the dark of the car, his eyes on Andrew’s, their hands on Neil’s stomach. “Not anymore. Are you?”

“No,” Andrew says, automatic and immediate, and when he surges forward finally for a kiss, Neil is already there to meet him.

They don’t break. They never will.

-

“You don’t have any excuses left,” Andrew says, pushing the plate across the counter and closer to Neil. “You have to eat it.”

Neil scrunches his nose up, the smell and look of broccoli and carrots particularly unappetizing today. Lately he’s had a fixing for apple pie - Renee’s apple pie, to be more specific - and that’s about it. Soggy green vegetables have never been his thing.

“What if it makes the baby sick?”

“Neil.”

“What if the baby is allergic to -”

“ _Neil_.”

“Fine,” Neil sighs, and swallows the forkful of broccoli just to make Andrew happy. He’s been pretty good otherwise about taking care of himself, sort of. Sure, his body tells him when he needs rest, and Abby told him what specific vitamins he needs to take, but Neil’s instincts used to be hardwired to protect himself, and only himself.

Now his instincts are to protect himself, so he can protect _her_.

Once Neil has finished his plate, Andrew wordlessly slides a strawberry smoothie across the counter, but Neil can still hear his praise.

They sit in compatible silence, Neil flipping through a newspaper while Andrew works on his laptop, replying to emails. They’re alone until Nicky decides to join them, loud and oblivious to their annoyance as always.

Nicky talks about his day as he looks through the fridge, then talks about how his day was yesterday, before talking about what his day will look like tomorrow. Andrew ignores him while Neil placates him, if only to make him go away.

But with Nicky, there is no such thing. He sits on the opposite side of them at the kitchen island, loudly sipping his lemonade through a straw as he watches the two of them.

“So,” Nicky says, after too long of a silence. Neil draws his shoulders up by his ears, waiting for the worst. “It’s time we talked about names, don’t you think? What’ve you got so far?”

“No,” Andrew says, not even glancing up from his laptop.

“Aw, come on. You need options, and lots of ‘em. How else will you come up with the perfect name?”

“By using our brains, _after_ she’s born.”

Neil immediately cringes, clenching his teeth together as he closes his eyes, because -

“ _She?_ She! She?” Nicky shouts, slamming both hands on the countertop. “ _It’s a girl?_ Since when? How long have you known? Neil, details, baby, details!”

Teeth still clenched, Neil gives Andrew a pointed look before sighing and looking at Nicky.

“We found out yesterday,” Neil answers, and though he is annoyed, he still feels excitement. “It’s a . . . yeah, it’s a girl.” And he can’t help but grin with it.

Nicky screams, an honest scream, genuinely terrifying.

“It’s a girl!” Nicky yells, slapping his hands alternatively off the counter in a strange rhythm. “A girl! We’re having a girl!”

“ _We’re_ having a girl,” Andrew answers, expression flat and voice dim. But yesterday it wasn’t; yesterday Andrew smiled, small and strange on his face but rightfully there, and yesterday Andrew’s voice was weak and raspy with shock as he kissed Neil’s forehead and repeated the word _girl_ , like he couldn’t quite believe it. “And no, we are not taking suggestions for names.”

“Too late for that!” Nicky runs around the island and throws his arms around Neil, which Neil had been expecting since Andrew opened his stupid mouth, so he accepts it and even returns it. “Let’s start with the greats; Whitney, Mariah, Brittney, Rihanna! Cher. Madonna. Ariana?”

“No -”

“Lady Gaga!”

“ _No_.”

“Angelina, Julia, Cameron? Lucy?”

“I don’t mind Lucy -”

“No.”

“You’re right. We need to go bigger, deeper . . . I’ve got it! Hermione!”

“Nicky, I will ki-”

“What is that?”

“Blair, Dianna, Leia? No, they’ll never be able to spell that at Starbucks. How about -”

“I did like Brooklyn,” Neil admits, and it feels like fire in his throat to say it. Giving her a name means something it didn’t mean before. That’s what she’ll be called, everyday, by everyone, for the rest of her life. Unless one day, like he was, she’s forced to run and hide and - and names are meant to be permanent, but sometimes they aren’t. By giving her one, Neil is promising her something that he couldn’t even promise himself. “Brooke, for short.”

Nicky is beaming, his silence actually befitting for once.

Andrew’s silence, however, is not.

Neil shrugs it off, as if he never said it. “Nevermind. I mean - we have time. We can come up with something else.”

“I’ll write you a list,” Nicky squeals, and quickly downs the rest of his lemonade before running out of the kitchen, shouting names to himself as he goes.

Neil still feels shamed and seen, so he busies himself with finishing his smoothie and looking intently at his newspaper, despite not taking anything in. After, Neil returns to their room for a nap while Andrew goes to his office to work, promising Neil with a kiss that he’ll check in soon.

Neil rests, drifting in and out of sleep. His body has been so tired and sore that continuous sleep is impossible, so he tries to enjoy what he can.

When he wakes up, it’s to find Andrew sitting at the edge of their bed. He has his eyes on his hands, his breathing quiet as always, looking as if he wants to say something but can’t.

Like he doesn’t know how, or even why.

“Andrew?” Neil asks, sitting up with only minor struggle.

Andrew says, still staring at his hands, “I don’t mind it, the name.”

Neil’s eyes narrow before widening, understanding dawning brightly upon him. “Brooklyn? You like it?”

“Yes but no,” Andrew says, slowly yet finally looking at Neil. “I do, but I like Brookes, better.”

Neil frowns, only slightly. “Brookes?”

“It’s different.”

“But not too different.”

It’s a name, with meaning, that two people decided on because they liked it. Neil knows his birth name wasn’t a mutual decision between his mother and father. It was an iteration of his father’s name and it was forced.

Hers won’t be.

“I like it,” Neil says softly, looking down as he touches his belly. “Brookes.”

When he meets Andrew’s eyes again, that smile from yesterday is back on his face. Quiet and small, subtle but loud, scared and full of fear but proud. Neil will be the only one to see it, but he knows it isn’t for him.

It’s for her.

-

While Neil feels relieved to have it all be known, he can’t quite shake the dread that comes with living under the same roof as Aaron.

He has to be careful of what room he enters and when, with who. He can’t ask Andrew anything about his brother - when he’s leaving, where he’s from, what he does - without Andrew growling and growing distant throughout the day.

Neil would be fine with him, maybe, if it didn’t constantly feel like he’s unwelcome and unwanted in his own home.

And worse - and he hates that this is the worst part, because this is the part he can’t fix - is how it all effects Andrew. Forced to stop talking to his brother, forced to pretend as if he doesn’t care, forced through the feeling of having his own brother hate him - Andrew will never admit to any of it, but Neil is his mate. He can see it.

That’s why his dread is so strong.

This late in the morning, the kitchen is usually empty, what with the entire staff off to work. Knowing that, Neil expects it to be empty as he walks in for a glass of water, only to meet his dread head on. He freezes in the doorway, keeping close to the wall, his flight or fight instinct not clear enough with its instructions.

“They found out last week,” Aaron says into his phone, sitting at the kitchen table with his back towards Neil. “I don’t know, ask him yourself. Yes, I know he won’t tell you. Yes . . . fine . . . yeah, a girl.”

He decides to stay, only because he’s curious, only because Aaron is evidently talking about them.

“Why would they tell me the name? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’ll find out when the stup- when it’s born, won’t I?”

Heavier than he used to be, an unsuspecting floorboard suddenly creaks underneath Neil’s weight. Aaron immediately jerks around in his chair, lowering the phone slightly to curse. He glares at Neil, before turning back around and bringing the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, work is fine. I should be home by next month, hopefully. It’s finally slowing down around here. I’ll see you soon. Love you, Kate.”

Aaron ends the call and promptly slams the phone down, turning around in his seat again to send Neil another heated look.

“Eavesdrop much?”

“Talk about me much?” Neil asks with a quirk of his head.

Aaron rolls his eyes, waving it off. “My girlfriend is curious, that’s all.”

“I’m sure,” Neil says, folding his arms across his chest as he steps further into the kitchen. “So you’re leaving?”

“Yup,” Aaron says, dismissive. “I never planned to stay forever. Once my work here is done, I am done.”

“So just like that,” Neil says with a shrug, and slides into the seat opposite Aaron. “You come here, tear everything apart, then leave?”

“Andrew is capable of putting things back together,” Aaron says, with an oddly placed laugh, then starts to organize the various folders in front of him. “Only this time, he should be able to do it right.”

Neil opens his mouth to bite that, to tear Aaron’s words apart, but that sense of dread now feels crushing. It sits heavy on Neil’s shoulders, his back, his heart, because he knows that Andrew isn’t the kind of person to put broken pieces back together - he’s the kind of person who takes those pieces and builds something else entirely, something stronger.

Something more defensive.

If one wall were ever torn down, Andrew would build two.

Andrew will shut Aaron out if he has to, if he deems it to be the right thing to do. Not because he wants to. In a perfect world, Andrew would never want to. If Andrew could build a world with Aaron and Neil both in it, Neil knows he would.

So he can’t let him shut Aaron out if he doesn’t have to. Neil is here to protect Andrew just as much as Andrew is here to protect Neil, even if it means protecting Andrew from himself.

“I don’t like you, I don’t want to like you, I will probably never like you,” Neil ends up saying after another long moment of thinking, keeping his tone blunt. “I wouldn’t trust you with a secret.”

“Then don’t.”

“But I’d trust you with my life.” And it’s terrifying to admit, to accept, but it’s fact and it’s truth. “You’re an asshole, and I know that won’t change, but . . . this whole time, you’ve just been trying to protect Andrew. You don’t want to hurt him, do you?”

“He’s my brother.”

“And you’re his. Don’t you think you should trust him back?”

Aaron scoffs, but he tells Neil everything he needs to know in the way he looks away. “He’ll be fine when I leave.”

“Maybe so,” Neil says with a shrug. “But will you be fine without him? What happens when you want to come back and he’s not here?”

“You care suddenly, why?”

“He’s my mate,” Neil says, blunt once more. “I can’t not care.”

He can’t let Andrew build walls when those walls will hurt him in the long run. Neil can’t make this a perfect world and make it so Andrew never has to choose, but maybe he can at least give Andrew a chance to.

Aaron rolls his eyes at Neil, sighing. “So, what? What do you want me to do? He’s not going to forgive me. You should know by now how stubborn he is.”

Neil laughs, mostly to himself, because that might’ve been the first thing he ever learned about Andrew, all within seconds of meeting him. Then he thinks through Aaron’s question, but he already knew the answer before he even asked.

“Be here,” Neil says, placing a hand over his belly. “She’s due in two months. I don’t like you, but as far as doctors go . . . I trust you. Andrew will, too.”

Aaron’s scoff is loud, more like a splutter, spliced with a laugh. He eyes Neil skeptically, as if it were a stupid suggestion and not the _right_ one.

“Really? After everything, you’re really going to ask me that?”

“Do you really think Andrew is going to let any other doctor near me?”

They both fall quiet, deep in thought, with Aaron’s slow acceptance weighing heavier in the air by the second.

Replacing Neil’s dread.

“No,” Aaron admits. “He might kill someone.”

“But not you.”

“Not me.”

Neil rocks forward a little on his toes, feeling lighter, feeling nervous and hesitant but somehow so sure.

“So?”

Aaron sighs. “Okay,” he says, and rubs at his tired eyes. “But only for him, because of him.”

“I didn’t list any other reasons, did I?” Neil asks, smug with his smile. He lays a soothing hand on his stomach before turning to leave, when Aaron stops him, calling out his name.

“I’m not thanking you, but . . . yeah,” Aaron says, looking confused with himself. “You know what I mean.”

Neil nods, because he does, then faces forward and keeps going.

Only for him, because of him.

-

He knows he already broke it, what with throwing one part of it against the floor in a moment of total frustration. Part A did _not_ fit into Slot B, like the instructions said it would, and no amount of hammering could make it go in. Neil tried. He truly, honestly, tried.

Then one screw wouldn’t go in, and then the next screw split the wood, and then he couldn’t find the third screw, and by time he got to the fourth screw he just couldn’t care anymore.

Babies don’t need cribs, do they?

Neil’s slept in odd places before, and a baby is even smaller, they could fit anywhere -

“Stop!” he yells, at the fifth screw, at the already-broken piece of wood in his hand, at the hammer and the screwdriver that _won’t do what they’re meant to do._ “Just - go in!”

The wood cracks, loudly, with the small clattering noise of that fifth screw falling to the floor enough to push Neil over whatever ledge he’d been standing on.

He shouts, more like a scream, and throws the piece of wood as far as he can, with as much strength as he has, only for the bedroom door to suddenly open. The broken wood hits the door frame with a rebounding crack, narrowly missing Andrew’s left shin.

Neil breathes quick and heavy, his anger too big in his chest to leave room for guilt.

Andrew bends down to pick up the broken piece, inspecting it before tossing it back to the ground.

“That’s not how you build a crib.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Neil snaps, his eyes suddenly bleary with tears, and he knows he’s being irrational, but that’s what makes it worse. He can’t stop, can’t reign it in, he doesn’t know how. Nothing is his, not his thoughts, feelings or actions. “I can’t - it just - _it won’t go in._ ”

Andrew stands where he is, surveying the various pieces and parts spread out across their room.

“Besides, where would we even put a stupid crib? In the closet? Out in the hall? We have no room!”

He takes a breath to give Andrew a moment to say something, but Andrew remains wordless, angering Neil even further. His silence only irritates Neil, grinding against his skin, prickling at his every nerve.

“And you’re not even helping! You’re just - standing there, judging me, not saying anything, and I - I - I can’t do this, Andrew.”

And as angry as he was seconds ago, now he only feels despair and aching loneliness, like Andrew is a world away. He whimpers, low and quiet in his throat, bowing his head to hide his face as traitorous tears brim from his eyes.

Wouldn’t matter, all the hiding in the world wouldn’t work, for Andrew gets on his knees in front of Neil and jabs two fingers under Neil’s chin to point his face upwards.

“One, you didn’t ask for help. You would have gotten angry if I even suggested it,” Andrew says, clear and calm. “Two, I’m working with Wymack on getting us a bigger room. It’s a temporary fix, I know. I will find us something better. And three, you can, because you have to.”

Neil’s bottom lip trembles, only for Andrew to quickly press his thumb against him, halting it.

“You do know you’re not alone,” Andrew says, but it’s more of a question. “I know less than you do, about any of this. That doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. It means I know we will figure it out.”

Neil nods, warmth filling his chest when Andrew moves his hand to cup Neil’s jaw. “I’m still not used to not being alone, I guess.”

Andrew snorts, rubbing his thumb along Neil’s cheek slowly, soothingly.

“I hope the irony of that is not lost on you.”

Neil smiles, and places one hand on top of Andrew’s, the other on his stomach.

“It’s not,” he says, laughing weakly. “But it would have been nice to remember all this before I destroyed the crib.”

Andrew shrugs, looking away from Neil to the damage spread across the floor. “It began as a lost cause, anyway.”

Neil laughs fully then, leaning his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder, letting Andrew wrap him up in full security.

Lost causes . . . Neil used to think he was one, out of time with no options, but then he came here, and he met Andrew, and it’s funny that they’re called lost causes, but you never hear the term _found causes._

Andrew holds onto Neil, pushing away all the bad, and Neil knows that if this ever were to go missing, they would both find their way back.

-

There’s a gentle knock on their door in the morning, loud enough to pull Andrew from sleep, in turn waking Neil.

“Neil? Andrew?” Abby’s voice comes through the door, soft and sorrowful. “I don’t mean to wake the two of you up, but David needs to see you both as soon as possible. Sorry. I’ll have breakfast ready in thirty if you’re feeling up for it.”

Her footsteps fade down the hall shortly after, but the dread she brought with her sticks.

“What?” Neil asks sleepily, clinging to Andrew’s arm with both his hands.

Andrew rubs his eyes and lets out a low groan, instinctively placing his hand on the back of Neil’s neck to soothe him. “Let’s get this out of the way. Get dressed.”

Neil nods, but doesn’t move until Andrew presses his lips to Neil’s neck, a calming kiss that could start fires.

Andrew brushes Neil’s hair back, a mess hanging over his forehead, before going to their closet to pull out clothes for the both of them. Whatever it is they’re needed for weighs heavy in the air, radiating from Andrew and passing onto Neil, but _this_ . . . feels secure. He doesn’t fear anything here.

They walk down the stairs hand in hand to find a grim-faced Wymack and Abby standing near the front desk. It’s clear Abby had been crying at some point - if her tear-stained cheeks weren’t obvious, Neil can smell it.

“What’s this about?” Andrew asks, already taking a defensive step in front of Neil.

“Let’s go into the boardroom,” Wymack says with a jerk of his chin. Andrew goes to argue, but Neil touches his elbow, silently asking him to obey, because this isn’t what they should be fighting.

In the boardroom, Abby pulls out Neil’s seat for him, only for to Andrew pull it closer to his once Neil’s sitting. He keeps a hand on Neil’s back and a hand on his thigh, and Neil only realizes he’d been shaking until he suddenly stops.

“What’s this about?” Andrew asks, only keeping his calm for Neil, it seems, who is on the verge of being sick. “And cut the bullshit. All of it.”

Wymack takes in a deep breath, his large hands tense on the table. There’s a folder already positioned in front of him; thin in its contents, but dangerous with its knowledge.

It has to be Neil’s file.

“Neil, I’m sorry,” Wymack says, those three words enough to make Neil’s heart stop beating. “Your location has been discovered.”

Metal scratches loud against linoleum as Neil backs out of his chair to stand up, only to be abruptly grabbed by the back of his neck and forced down into his seat. His breath comes out fast and panicked, his whine twisting out low and pained the longer Andrew holds onto him.

“No,” Neil says, shaking underneath Andrew’s steady grip. “ _No_ -”

And he isn’t sure what he’s denying; the fact that he’s been found, that Andrew is keeping him still, that he can’t run when he rants to run. Perhaps he’s denying it all.

“I received a call last night, from one of your father’s people,” Wymack continues, louder over Neil’s laboured breathing. “They claim to have gotten word about you through a hospital over in Atlanta. I promise we’re going to figure out how exactly they managed to track you down, but -”

Whatever Wymack says might as well be silence, for no words can save Neil now.

“No,” Neil says again, more distantly as he shakes his head. “They couldn’t have - they can’t.”

He goes by a different name, he ran to a different place. He was supposed to be safe here.

They told him he would be safe here.

He should have ran when Kevin told him to. He should have stayed away when Andrew said _return_.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s not going anywhere,” Andrew says, deftly. “They can’t step foot inside this shelter. Not without being let in. Not without an order from the court.”

Wymack bows his head and clasps his hands together, while Abby rubs soothingly over his back.

“That’s the thing, kid . . .” Wymack sighs, before looking up at Neil with his dreadful brown eyes. “They don’t need to get permission from the courts when they already have it. Neil, your father signed a contract with the Moriyama’s when you were younger, agreeing to ship you off when you became of age. Unfortunately, they still have the right to collect you now.”

Neil remembers. He closes his eyes and sees paper and pens and men in suits, and he sees that face across the table from him, young but not at all innocent. Wanting and waiting.

Andrew’s hand on Neil’s neck becomes so constricting that it nearly hurts, but even if it did Neil wouldn’t feel it, because what he feels instead is the look Andrew gives him; just as constricting, but so much more confused.

“Moriyama’s,” Andrew repeats, slowly, before looking away, which is somehow so much worse. “No, it still doesn’t matter. It didn’t work with Kevin, it sure as fuck isn’t working with Neil. You’re just going to let those yakuza bastards come in here and take him? No.”

“Andrew -”

“No,” Andrew says, clean and cold. “They don’t have any rights. Tell them to fuck off, or else I will.”

“Andrew,” Wymack says, rubbing at his temples. “You don’t think I’ve told them a million times to fuck off? This isn’t a matter of he says, she says. The contract is a legal document. You know, the kind of thing we deal with daily? They have every right to come in here and take Neil if we don’t comply.”

“Fuck that,” Andrew says, and stands to his feet. “They come within a hundred feet of this place and I’ll kill them.”

“Andrew,” Abby tries, but is silenced with a stare.

“No. Some piece of paper doesn’t get to decide who Neil belongs to. That’s up to Neil, and he already made his decision.”

Neil would speak, truly, if he could only open his mouth, could think anything else besides _help_.

“I know that as much as you know that, but the courts disagree. They could shut this whole place down if we don’t work with them. The Moriyama’s are terribly powerful people, Andrew. We were lucky to get away with Kevin.”

“We’ll pay them again. We’ll pay them more. We’ll take them to court. I don’t care. Neil isn’t leaving.”

But Neil isn’t worried about that.

About any of that.

It’s the fact that he’s been found. It’s that after years of running, he finally settled down. He found a mate. They started a family. He was safe.

And now it doesn’t matter, because he will have to face his father, and he actually believed he would never have to again.

Neil turns into Andrew’s body, burying his face against Andrew’s chest and letting Andrew’s arms wrap around him and hold him. It won’t make this go away, but despite this devastation, Neil trusts him, and will always trust him.

“Believe me when I say we’re going to fight this,” Wymack says to the table. “The contract is outdated and has to be full of loopholes. This is what we do, remember? We get people out of situations, just like this, and bring them here.”

“But Neil is already here,” Andrew growls, clutching at Neil with claws. “We were supposed to protect him.”

And even if it’s not said, Neil hears the _I was_ in his sentence.

“I know. I’m sorry, Neil. We were supposed to protect you from this. All we can do now is work on getting you back.

Neil goes still in Andrew’s arms before looking up.

“Getting me . . what?” Neil asks in his broken voice, his arms trembling where he has them wrapped around Andrew. “What?”

“If you’re not released to your father’s people by end of day tomorrow, you will be taken. By force.”

In a breath, less than a blink, Neil is suddenly being restrained, down on the floor, his feet skidding against tile, as Andrew holds him around his chest and tries to keep him still, whispering into his ear to _settle_ and _stop_ and _stay_. He still tries to escape, thrashing, elbowing Andrew to try and get away, his brain overridden with fear and instinct.

It’s no longer himself he has to protect. It’s her.

It’s - it’s all of them.

Because he knows his father, and he knows that once Neil leaves a trail behind, his father will destroy everything that stands in the way.

It’s like having a gun pointed at your head. Your _no_ is really a _yes_ , and nothing else can be said.

He goes still with the realization that he will have to go.

All the denial in the world won’t stop Neil’s worst fears from coming true, for they already have.

He’s been found.

“Andrew,” Neil says, weakly, and turns around in Andrew’s hold once it loosens. Andrew is down on his knees, his expression unusual in how vivid it is, his anxiety and fear clear in his every feature. If Neil could change anything about this situation, it would be that. “I don’t want to go. I don’t . . but I have to.”

“You don’t,” Andrew says fiercely, and he looks frustrated, he looks broken. “How many times do I have to tell you? You do not have to go anywhere you do not want to.”

“And how many times do I have to say that my father will kill you?” Neil asks with more grit, his frustration now outweighing his fear. “Not just you, but all of you. Everyone.” He rests a hand on his belly and sobs, genuine and weighted. “You don’t want to fight this fight. You _can’t_.”

“Idiot,” Andrew snarls, that hazel anger of his sharpening as both of his hands reach up to cradle Neil’s jaw. “So stupid. Stop trying to save everyone else and worry about yourself. Worry about _her_. What do you think is going to happen to her if you leave? What do you think they’ll do?”

Hysterical might not be the best word to describe Andrew’s words and Andrew’s voice, but it’s as close as Neil has ever heard it. It would be so easy to catch it, all of Andrew’s distress, but instinct stands as a block between feeling and thought.

Neil had been expecting this, all along, if he truly thinks about it; even when he thought he was safe, every door had to be locked, every key had to be hidden, life was always lived looking over his shoulder. Tomorrow always had the possibility of being _one day._

One day his past would catch up with him.

Knowing that today is that one day, with one hand on his stomach and one hand on Andrew’s face, Neil says with the most clarity he’s ever spoken with, “I’m not letting anything happen to her.”

Something breaks, right across Andrew’s face, right through Neil’s heart, and then they’re forehead to forehead and nose to nose and nobody else exists, nobody.

Soon, too soon, Andrew breaks their kiss to bring them both back to their feet. He holds Neil close to him as he looks at Wymack and a crying Abby before saying, “We don’t release him until we have a solid plan on how to get him back.”

“I’ve already started his case,” Wymack says, tapping a finger against Neil’s folder. “Once we receive a copy of his contract, we can start to dismantle it.” Then he looks to Neil, and his gruff, hard face suddenly softens. “We’re going to get you back, Neil.”

Neil only nods, turning his body back into Andrew’s, only wanting to be surrounded by him until the moment he has to leave.

He’ll be facing his father again.

Only this time, he isn’t afraid. This time, he isn’t going to run.

And that might be what saves him.

-

It’s strange to have a time limit hanging above his head.

While on the run, Neil was always aware of the ticking numbers. Only, he didn’t know when it would end.

Now he does, with his father’s people coming to collect him in just a few hours.

He decided not to tell anyone, because the less people that know, the better. He’ll be back anyway, one day.

And . . . and if he isn’t, if he doesn’t, _if he can’t_ \- then it’s better that they don’t know. Because Neil hasn’t ever said goodbye, so he isn’t very good at it, and they all deserve better than that.

Neil doesn’t pack anything, for he has a feeling it’ll be confiscated when he gets to - wherever it is that he’s going. He’d rather have something to come back to, something familiar waiting for him when he comes home.

Which is why he doesn’t tell Andrew all the things he wants to say. Otherwise he might never believe that he will come back to say all these things.

They do speak, however, as they lay on their bed together, their legs interwoven and their hands locked within one another’s.

“The Moriyama’s,” Andrew says, as if he’d been thinking it for a while, more curious than cross. “Aaron was right. I should have found it strange that first Kevin ran to me, then you did.”

Neil moves to sit up, an apology already breaking in his chest, only for Andrew to hold on tighter and keep him down. He whimpers, nudging his nose under Andrew’s chin to try and relay that apology, to seek out acceptance.

“I didn’t know,” Neil says, quiet against Andrew’s skin. “I don’t think Kevin did, either.”

Andrew scoffs, but the sound isn’t hurtful. “But when you did know, you stayed.”

“I know, I . . . every time I felt like running, I just - I couldn’t. I had to stay.” He rests a hand against Andrew’s chest, the gentle thump of his heart hitting Neil’s palm. He thinks; the why and the how and the what of it all, and maybe the reason Neil came back when Andrew asked is the same reason Neil came here in the first place. “I was meant to.”

And that’s why he’s so sure now, despite being so unsure.

He’s terrified, like he was when he first arrived at the shelter. He’s unsure, like he was when he first met Andrew. He’s preparing for the worst, like he’s done every day since birth, but he knows now to expect the best.

Neil was meant to find Andrew, and now he’s meant to come back to Andrew.

It’s better this way, with the time limit. He’s choosing to go because he knows he’ll come back, and that has to be better than being forced and taken, anonymous and alone. This isn’t running away, this is returning.

Their baby turns, the oddest sensation that sometimes keeps Neil up at night, but right then it’s comforting and exciting, all at once. Giving Neil the belief that not everything has to turn out bad for him in the end.

“Can you do something for me?” Neil asks as their last few hours draw to an end. He allows Andrew to tilt his chin up until they’re eye to eye, his expression questioning. “We still have to find a new crib. One that isn’t such a bitch to put together. And a stroller, if you can.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow on Neil’s face, confused as he thinks, before he finally sighs and nods.

“I’m sure Nicky already has five different options for us to choose from.”

“Nothing fancy, we need functional.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Neil laughs, and nudges his nose off Andrew’s.

It’s another something to come back to.

-

Nearly ten years of his life were spent on the run from his father, with fear being the predominant factor pushing him forward. Now, as his last hour dwindles down into minutes, Neil feels less scared and more . . . determined.

It’s difficult to understand that he isn’t going to run, that he can’t, that it’s not an option this time. It’s even more difficult to accept that he doesn’t _have to_ run. He’ll be saved. He’s trusting in other people to figure out his fate and bring him home.

It isn’t difficult to accept this place as his home anymore.

Neil was a child when he left his father’s house, but he can recall his every word and action, how his father used his voice as a weapon, how his actual weapons were sharp and shining, always near him or on him, always ready to be used against Neil.

It didn’t matter that Neil was only a child, that he was his son, and it didn’t matter that Neil’s mother was his wife, somebody that he loved.

They were more at risk of being hurt than anyone else, and so with that knowledge, Neil keeps his arms permanently guarded around his stomach to hide her. He doesn’t know how his father will react to this. He doesn’t want to find out.

When they’re all out of time, Andrew and Neil leave their bedroom and all thoughts of safety behind. Neil goes to open the door, only to be suddenly pinned against it, with Andrew’s pale hands trembling against him, his eyes focused and his expression blank.

He’s struggling to keep himself inside the confinements of his body. Neil can tell, because Neil feels the same.

“Andrew,” Neil says, all he can say, and he wonders how he used to think he hated this man. He touches at Andrew’s cheek and offers him a smile that he would never be able to give to himself.

Andrew shuts his eyes and takes in one more breath, before kissing Neil with strength. They collide and connect and make perfect sense, and Neil regrets every step he ever tried to take away from him.

This is something you run to or run for, but never, ever _from_.

“You’re coming back,” Andrew says against Neil’s lips. “I don’t care about any contract, any court. You’re coming back, here, to me.”

Neil nods into their next kiss, and while he does believe him, he uses these last few moments to remember everything important; the feel of Andrew’s hair and the warmth of his skin, the force of his lips, the power in his voice, the calm that he brings.

“I will,” Neil says, and hates how he breaks from it. “I promise.”

“I should have done better.”

“ _No_ ,” Neil says, insistently. “I told you he would come. There wasn’t anything we could do.”

Andrew growls, mostly to himself, but Neil quiets him with a kiss.

They can’t stop time any longer, and soon the two of them have to leave, walking hand in hand down to the lobby where Wymack and Abby are waiting for them. Wymack ordered the kitchen and lobby to be cleared for the night, leaving the shelter empty and quiet.

Neil can hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room.

Wymack positions himself near the front door, a file tucked under his arm, his expression grim but his eyes fierce. Abby stands behind the desk, watching the cameras for the car that will eventually come. Neil stays by Andrew, whose shaking has been replaced by silence.

It’s an unbearable wait, every noise making Neil flinch, so when he does hear the sound of a car on their street, he first hopes he’s simply imagining it. But he can’t hallucinate danger, and soon it’s all he can detect.

Blood and metal are two distinct scents, increasing in strength the closer they get.

Abby makes a pained noise, motioning towards the security cameras monitors as she calls for Wymack. Then she looks at Neil, and it’s in question, it’s regret, it’s guilt.

Neil nods, accepting it all.

She unlocks the front gates, allowing them and their dangerous scents in.

Neil looks at Andrew to stop himself from counting down.

Andrew looks back, and Neil can see everything that he’s feeling. He feels it right back.

Perfume is the next scent to assault Neil’s senses, so sharp and cheap and florally that he nearly pinches his nose to keep from drowning in it, familiar as it is overpowering, having cloaked his every childhood nightmare. He braces himself, because if Lola smells the same as she did back then, she probably isn’t any nicer.

Three figures approach the front door, each recognizable in smell and sight. Neil steps closer to Andrew, ready to beg for one more second of safety. They bang on the door, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet, quiet shelter.

“Identification first,” Wymack says, with a tone of voice powerful enough to make anyone obey. “Then show me his contract, hold it up.”

Something slams against the glass, unlegible from where Neil stands but clear enough for Wymack. Wymack grows more tense, his strong stance beginning to break. He sighs, unlocking the front door and taking a step back, letting them in.

“It’s all there for you, hon,” Lola says, her voice the exact same as it was ten years ago, nasally and pointed. “Little Nathaniel is all ours for the taking.”

Following Lola is Romera and DiMaccio; two tall, threatening presences that Neil somehow fears less than Lola, for she’s always been the true threat.

She unceremoniously hands off the contract, shoving it against Wymack’s chest before she fully steps into the lounge. Her smile is cruel, while her eyes are calculating. She takes in the room first, then Abby, then Andrew, and then Neil.

“Hello, Junior,” Lola says in evident delight. “It’s certainly been awhile, hey? You’ve grown up so much.”

Neil scowls, and resists the urge to hide behind Andrew, because he will not make him a target here, but Andrew seems to make that choice for himself by stepping out in front of Neil and growling. “You are not to touch him. Not a finger, not a hair.”

Romero and Lola exchange glances, before Lola faces Andrew with a new kind of smile, placating but false.

“And who might you be?” she asks, too sweet. “Something tells me you’re an alpha, so that must mean -” And while her voice may be a threat, her silence is the true infliction. She looks from Andrew to Neil, pure delight spreading across her face. “Oh. Oh, no, no, no. Naughty little Nathaniel. Been playing house, have we?”

Andrew goes to take a daunting step forward, only for Neil to catch the sleeve of his jacket and keep him back. His own heart is racing, his hands now shaking too, but he can’t react, he can’t implicate anyone else.

“You won’t be able to keep me,” Neil says with conviction, one hand still on Andrew, the other on his belly. “The Moriyama’s won’t want a used omega and you know it.”

Lola’s smile shuts off, her eyes now the dark, burning holes that Neil remembers. “Well it’s what they’re getting, whether they like it or not,” she snaps, clicking her tongue. “It’s not our problem you couldn’t keep your legs closed. No, no, that’ll be all yours.”

She reaches out to grab at Neil’s arm with her long-nailed fingers, only for Andrew to block her and snarl. “I said _don’t touch him_.”

Lola looks close to furious for one second before she’s smiling again, and Andrew has to be the idiot out of the two of them, putting himself in the crossfire like that. Neil says as much in the look he gives him, pleading yet condemning.

“He’s ours, little boy. We can do whatever we want with him.”

To prove her point, she snaps two fingers to summon DiMaccio, who suddenly grabs Neil and pulls him away from Andrew. His heavy hand on the back of Neil’s neck is enough to render him motionless.

Andrew lunges forward, but is only able to get his hands on Neil’s sweater before he’s being silenced and stopped by the cocking of three separate guns.

“Andrew, don’t,” Neil pleads, sending everything he can into the look he gives him. “It’s fine. It’ll be - it will be fine. I promise.”

He will never tell him that the only thing holding him up is the grip around his neck, won’t get to say that he isn’t scared, because Andrew makes him forget what fear even feels like.

Andrew stares at him, wordless. Neil hears novels.

DiMaccio finally moves his hold to the back of Neil’s sweater, allowing Neil enough room to breathe, but not for long. He’s quickly flanked by DiMaccio and Romero, with Lola leading the way outside.

“You’ll be hearing from us soon,” Wymack says as they approach the door.

Lola turns around and blows him a kiss. “I’m sure we will.”

Behind them, Neil can hear something crash into the door, pounding against it, but he can’t turn to look. He wouldn’t, even if he could, because he knows that it’s Andrew, and he knows he can’t give Andrew what he wants.

Down at the car, Lola gets into the backseat first before Neil is thrown in by DiMaccio. He and Romero take the front seats, immediately starting the car and leaving.

The sight of handcuffs is unusual now, but they still strike Neil with the same sickness as they did years ago while on the run, a symbol of being caught, trapped, and taken. Lola locks his arms in front of him, instead of behind him or to the seat. Her courtesy is even more unusual, but Neil doesn’t question it.

Romero fiddles with the radio before landing on a rock station, and turns up the volume as Lola leans up to whisper in his ear. The two mumble and nod at one another, before Lola turns to Neil with her old smile back on her face.

“So,” she says, and points at his stomach. “How far along are you?”

Neil looks away, turning his gaze out the window, ready to refuse compliance and keep quiet, only to feel the tip of a knife pointed at his cheek. Almost close enough to cut.

“Come on, Junior. So long apart, don’t you think it’s finally time to catch up?”

Neil stiffens, before mumbling, “Five months. I’m five months.”

“Girl? Boy?” Lola asks, her eyes widening. “Is Junior going to have another Junior?”

“It’s a girl, she’s - can you get your knife out of my face?”

Lola pouts, but lowers her knife all the same. “A girl, eh? I’ve always wanted a girl,” she says, almost dreamily. “How about a name? You got one yet?”

“No,” Neil lies, because right now he can only protect one thing about her, so let it be her identity.

“Shame. Lola is an awfully nice name, if you need one.”

“I’ll be sure to not keep it in mind.”

Lola waves her knife at him, the pointed edge too close to his face again. “Your daddy won’t be too happy about this. Being a grandfather isn’t high on his priority list right now.”

“He is not her grandfather,” Neil spits, because the man is hardly even _his_ father. “He isn’t anything.”

“All the same, he wasn’t planning on bringing you home all knocked up,” she says, clicking her tongue. “You were right, kid. The Moriyama’s definitely don’t want any pregnant bitch. I’m betting my money on them not even taking a look at you. What do you think, Romero?”

Her brother laughs. “I dunno. A pretty face is a pretty face.”

She laughs too, even more high and shrill. “Well, look at that! You might have a chance after all.”

“Fuck you,” Neil snaps, and braces himself for the tip of the knife again.

“Your poor boyfriend,” Lola says, pouting. “What’s he going to do, his bitch and his kid both gone?”

Neil finally struggles against his cuffs, finally feeling true anger. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t even think about him!”

And he knows he’s incriminating both of them. He’s putting a target on Andrew’s back. If he’s valuable to Neil then he’s something that can be used against Neil. This is the least Neil can do to protect him, if anything.

“What? We don’t deserve any kind of reward for finally catching you? Let us enjoy this moment, Nathaniel. We’ve only been waiting for ten years.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

Once again, he expects the cut of the knife, sharp in his cheek. He bares his teeth through it.

Lola scowls at him, all false joy drained from her face. “Who is it that’s been caught? Oh, right. It’s you. Seems you weren’t as good of a hider as you thought.”

Neil scowls back, his mouth snarled. “How’d you finally find me then?”

It’s the one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to contemplate, for he hadn’t wanted to alter his view of the shelter. He wanted to believe it was a safe haven until the second he was forced to leave it.

“Word of mouth, kiddo,” Lola says, finally taking her knife away. “As soon as we heard of a runaway living under the same roof as former Moriyama property, we put two and two together, and it led us to you. Thank God for that contract of yours, otherwise we’d never be able to get you out.”

Neil’s heart sinks, slowly. It was foolish to have believed he would ever be safe. He knew his father signed him over, he knew it was why his mother took him and ran. He should have known it’d be the reason he would eventually be found.

Nothing is stronger than money and legality, and his father had Neil wrapped in it.

“Being Moriyama property was the only way for us to get our hands on you, but you’re not even good for that, are you?”

Neil looks away, needing to think.

“They were able to get Kevin out of his contract. They’ll get me out, too.”

Lola laughs. “They’re on one hell of a time limit. Who knows what your father will do to you when he sees you like this.”

She laughs again, and when she reaches to poke Neil in the stomach, he whirls around and bites her, hard enough to draw blood.

Her angry face is the last thing he sees before he’s hit in the head with the hilt of her knife.

-

When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by the familiar sight of his old living room. It was always an ironic name, for the room never did see much life pass through it while he was growing up. The decorations, end tables and the large flat screen television were all for show, all part of a big game of pretend.

He wishes it were all still pretend, as he wakes up and feels a horrible pounding in his head.

Thankfully he’s alone, but he knows he won’t be for long. He uses the time he has to survey himself and his surroundings; the handcuffs have been taken off his wrists, but his left ankle has been locked to the coffee table. His head hurts from the knife, but other than that only his back is sore, with the odd cramp here and there running through his body.

His hands go to his stomach, where he can hear and feel her heartbeat if he listens closely enough.

She’s okay, and so he is okay.

The house is quiet, deceiving in its safeness. It was never a sanctuary, like homes are meant to be. Like his home at the shelter was. This house was a trap, or a maze, where one wrong step could cost you.

You shouldn’t have to learn what pain actually means when you’re hardly seven years old, but Neil knew all about it before he was even six.

Because he had to learn early on how to navigate this maze, he knows all the exits. He remembers which window his mother had rigged, and the closet door that he could lock from the inside whenever he needed to hide. He knows which floorboards will creak and which step on the staircase will give him away.

If he could escape this on his own, he would know how to, at least.

Neil waits in silence and makes hypothetical plans for hypothetical paths. He doesn’t know what his father will do to him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to her. He only knows how to run, and he can’t do that.

Lola’s perfume is evident in the air long before she is; old and florally, the kind of scent that makes you cough. Neil sits up in anticipation, his heart thudding with each footstep that sounds against the floor.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Lola says as she steps into the living room. Neil must’ve bitten her on the neck, if the bandage she’s wearing is anything to go by. “Don’t worry - while you were sleeping, we caught your daddy up on everything you’ve been doing the past few years. I’m sad to report that he wasn’t too thrilled to learn about his future granddaughter.”

Neil growls, but keeps his anger hot in his heart. He won’t give her any leverage over them.

“Where is he?” Neil asks, unimpressed. “All these years looking for me, and he can’t even bother to come see me himself?”

Lola laughs, and takes a seat on the same couch as Neil - keeping her distance this time, at least.

“He’ll be here soon enough. It’s not his fault you went and mated with the first alpha you could find, but now _he_ has to find a way to deal with it.”

Choosing not to respond to that, Neil sighs and looks away. He’s glad they let him sit on a couch, opposed to leaving him in the basement like they would usually do to any of his father’s victims. Another cramp pulls at his body, lower in his stomach, painful enough to make Neil lose his breath before the ache suddenly disappears.

It has to be from sitting in the car for so long, or maybe they bruised him while moving him into the house. He ignores it and focuses on calming himself down as much as he can, before his father does show up. He also ignores the way Lola is staring at him, studying him. Like he has something that she wants, but she can’t quite figure out how to get it from him without being bit.

Neil can smell her jealousy as much as he can smell her perfume.

Another hour passes before the house comes to life with sounds, the garage door opening as a car pulls in. Lola gets to her feet and stretches, her smile slowly taking over her face. She looks over her shoulder at Neil, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“Daddy’s home,” she says with a shrug, then turns to face the doorway.

Calm is an impossible state to reach after that, Neil shifting in his spot, tugging at the cuff on his leg. The scent of metal and aftershave soon hits him, woodsy and chemically all at once. It haunted Neil as a child, just like it haunts him now. He tugs harder at the cuff, metal grating sharp against his ankle.

All of his senses go silent when his father walks into the room. He can’t see, hear or feel, having to force his lungs to move.

“Lola,” his father says, to which Lola responds by moving to stand behind him, alongside DiMaccio, the only thing now separating Neil and his father the coffee table that Neil is chained to. This must be how a rabbit feels when ensnared in a trap.

“Nathaniel,” his father says, and Neil has had countless nightmares about the look his father would give him if he were to ever be caught, but none of them were this. Those blue eyes of his father’s have haunted Neil for years, he could never tell the difference the two of them, but right now that difference is looking back at him. “Welcome back.”

That difference is anger.

Neil’s lip curls, but he bites his tongue to keep from saying anything.

“You’ve grown,” his father continues, and beckons DiMaccio forward to unlock the cuff around Neil’s ankle. “Perhaps you’ve grown too much.”

Neil instinctively rolls and stretches his ankle once it’s free, but doesn’t stand to his feet.

“Lola tells me you’re five months along. Is this true?”

Hesitating at first, Neil slowly looks up from his feet to meet his father’s gaze. “Yes.”

That anger spikes, so loud and heavy that Neil has to force himself to not reel back from it.

“You’re as dumb as your mother,” his father shouts, raising a hand as if to strike Neil before he quickly lowers it. “You’ve known your purpose since before you could walk. What made you think you could stray from it? Who gave you the right?”

And before him are two paths; refusal or obedience. One might save his pride, while one might save his life.

“I’m . . .” Neil looks away and crosses his arms. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He isn’t and he won’t ever be, but if it’s what his father needs to hear in order to keep his hands to himself, then Neil will lie until his life is over.

“As you should be. There’s no way in hell the Moriyama Lord will take you now. Look at you, defiled and used, like some common bitch.”

“I tried telling the kid,” Lola says with an eye roll. “He’s got himself a boyfriend and everything.”

“ _No_.” Neil says it so instinctively, automatic and desperate. He quickly clamps his mouth shut before looking to his father and bowing his head. “I mean I - I don’t have anyone.”

“Then who did this to you?”

Neil can’t fight off the tears, not with how wrecked and rampant his body feels. “Nobody. He doesn’t matter. _Nobody_ -”

His father’s hands curl by his sides, but his frustration passes within a breath. “Be that way. It won’t stop us from finding out, and it doesn’t make this any less of a problem.”

His father’s hands are suddenly in Neil’s face, grabbing the front of Neil’s sweater to pull him to his feet. His father is so much taller than Neil that Neil has to stand on his tiptoes to avoid being choked.

“It was either give you to the Moriyama’s or kill you,” he snarls in Neil’s face. “You were fortunate enough that we chose to give you away, but you had to ruin it, you had to go and void your contract. They won’t accept you as you are now . . . but they won’t accept nothing.”

He throws Neil back, Neil stumbling on his feet and landing hard on his backside. He winces, but has to brace himself for his suddenly looming father, who stands over him with one boot on his stomach. All it would take is one step, the slightest bit of pressure and -

“So here are your choices, Nathaniel; you hand over your child to the Moriyama’s, or I sell you to the highest bidder and use your earnings to pay back your debt.” His father leans forward, enough to make Neil cry out and gasp, powerless on his back like this. “You could have had a life, you know, if you had only stayed.”

He wants to yell neither, none, nothing, that Andrew and Wymack are close to getting him home, because if his contract has been voided then it’s only a matter of time before the courts step in and allow them to take him back to where he belongs.

The Moriyama’s will be powerful opponents. Kevin had to pay for his life. Neil will likely have to pay for his.

But not with her, and not with himself.

“I -” Neil starts to say, not sure what, before what feels like another cramp tears through him. It hurts more than his father’s hands had, more than the knife, more than leaving Andrew behind. Neil grits his teeth as he cries, so animal, no longer human. “I-I need a doctor.”

It wasn’t what his father had expected to hear, clearly, for he takes a step back and sends a questioning look to Lola.

“No, Junior, what you need is a good spanking,” Lola says and laughs, leaning on his father’s shoulder. “Or maybe a kick in the ass or two.”

Neil tries to sit up but suddenly can’t breathe, the pain is so there and present, embedding itself in his every breath. He and Abby had only briefly discussed what labour would look and feel like, before Neil grew too uncomfortable and opted to talk about it later.

 _Later_ was a privilege he wasn’t even aware he had. This can’t be that. Not now, not this far from home, not without Andrew.

Abby had mentioned stress, and how as he entered the few final months he would have to be more relaxed, more calm, on his feet less in order to prevent early onset labour.

“I think I’m going into labour,” Neil says, as precise as he can make himself sound. Calm, calm, he is calm and this isn’t happening, and they are fine and they will be fine. “P-please. I need help.”

His father’s eyes stay on him, while Lola laughs. “Yeah, like we’re gonna believe that,” she says, and leans in to whisper something into his father’s ear.

“Patrick, take him upstairs,” his father says to DiMaccio. “We’ll figure out what to do with him later.”

Neil winces as he’s hauled to his feet and forced up the stairs. He’s thrown into his childhood bedroom, the door slammed in his face and then locked. Footsteps recede, until he’s met with quiet and his own laboured breathing.

It’s better than being downstairs, with their scents and their looks and their threats . . . but Neil was telling the truth.

He’s going into labour.

-

They didn’t lock him up to anything, which means escape from this room is impossible. He checks every window and wall regardless, but knows it’s futile. He’s mostly glad for the space and privacy.

He would kill for a warm bath right now, with Andrew’s soap, and Andrew’s arms around him, his hands all over.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so - it’s as if there’s something sharp poking him in the back, and with every breath he takes it only becomes _sharper_.

He leans over the footboard of his old bed and takes a slow, deep breath. Abby had said labour would be relatively painless for him, what with the medication and the anesthesia. She hadn’t mentioned how horrible the _before_ would feel.

They never discussed what a natural birth would be like, for it’s meant to be nearly genetically and physically impossible. His body can’t, most bodies couldn’t, due to a fault in the long line of evolution.

But this isn’t that, so he pushes away the thought of dying - and not even from his father’s hands, but from the life inside of him.

Instead, he thinks through his plan; with his contract now voided, the only reason his father is keeping him here is because of the debt he owes to the Moriyama’s. The payment will have to be worth more than Neil’s life, but the shelter specializes in situations like this. Kevin was free to walk, after all.

So why can’t Neil?

He paces the length of his bedroom, which hasn’t changed a bit since he left it all those years ago. Walking helps. Some cramps - or contractions, he guesses - are worse than others, with enough time in between them for him to catch his breath and calm down. Then it starts all over again.

If his father does intend to sell him, he’ll have to keep him alive, which means he’ll have to take Neil to a hospital, sooner rather than later. That’ll buy Andrew and Wymack more time.

He lays a hand on his belly and silently prays that she waits.

Only for another contraction to rip apart his body, his organs all feeling as if they’re being squeezed, then immediately let go. The pain recedes as if it were never there, but Neil is left breathless and panting.

Instinct is telling him to hide, to lay down and cover himself and go through this in peace, while instinct is also urging him to get up and get help, because he needs help, now.

Neil listens to that side of instinct, and runs to the locked door, pounding on it.

“I need a doctor, whether you believe me or not!” he yells, in between smacks against the door. “I need help. I’m having my baby, please, I need - I can’t do this on my own.”

He growls when there’s no response, though he can smell someone on the other side of the door. He breathes through the pain and frustration, aggressive and animal-like, before walking another lap of the room, checking all the windows and banging on the glass, despite knowing it’s all bulletproof.

“ _Please_ ,” Neil says next, taking the beggar’s path. “I need help. I need a doctor.”

But silence is all that greets him.

It dawns on him then that there is a good chance he will die today, and so will she.

He sits on the edge of his bed and clutches at his stomach, while another contraction seizes control of his body. His pain manifests in the form of a whimper, so pained and afraid, while his hysteria rises, and mixed with instinct it’s dangerous; his breath comes out shakier, as his mind thinks of ways to escape.

He scans the room for anything sharp. Just enough to pierce through skin, somewhere deep down inside of him.

There’s a mirror on the wall, once used to indicate his short-lasting growth spurts, the only object in the room that can be broken and weaponized. Neil stands in front of it, regarding his own reflection, and thinks of the promises he made to return, to protect her.

He didn’t know that circumstances would change, that his options would run out before he could even choose them.

With one last loud and pained shout, Neil bangs on the door and yells, cries, pleads; “If you won’t help me then I’ll do it myself. _Please_. I need help. Don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

His throat feels hoarse from the shouting, his eyes burning from tears. This is ten years of fear packed up into just a few seconds.

When he’s once again met with silence, Neil takes to throwing his body at the door. The frame only shakes, and only a sound is made. He’s too weak, too panicked to actually try. He claws at the wood, kicks where he can, tries and tries and tries to get out, but just like her, he’s trapped.

“Please,” he says, mostly a whisper, mostly to himself. He can hardly breathe now, can hardly see through the tears stinging his eyes. His body hurts. His heart hurts more.

He eyes the mirror opposite him again, watching his heaving and shuddery reflection, and in a perfect world he could at least save one of them.

He looks around the room for something heavy, and decides on a large book full of fairy tales that sits on his shelf, that wasn’t ever read to him as a child. His hand is trembling too hard to get a good grip on it, but he only needs to throw it a few feet.

With a cry, Neil heaves it at the mirror and braces himself for the shatter, but it only cracks. His reflection is broken up and disfigured, but still trapped inside. His body clamps up, locking down, a pain so powerful it feels like it’s crushing his bones pulsing through him. He doesn’t buckle, doesn’t fall, instead breathing in hard through his nose so he can find another book.

He doesn’t even read the title of this one, sparing it no mind as he throws the book towards the mirror, powered by pain.

The shattering of the mirror is loud in the quiet house, almost enough to cover the sound of Neil’s cry as he drops to his knees. There’s glass on the floor around him, small pieces and long fragments. He looks for the sharpest one, sniffling and crying and begging to whoever could be listening to make this stop, please, just make this stop -

It shouldn’t have been like this. They were going to buy a crib, a stroller, were going to get a place of their own. It would have all been imperfect because this isn’t a perfect world, but at least he would be there for it.

His fingertips are bloody when he picks up the shard he’d been looking for, pricked and cut by the fine shattering of glass.

But what’s one more scar on a boy who was meant to die?

He’s still crying to himself, to whoever, as he wraps his hand around the long, jagged piece of glass, still crying as he lifts his shirt up just enough, and in those few seconds before glass meets skin, Neil acknowledges that it will hurt, then immediately disregards it.

Ten years led to this, he thinks, bringing him right back to where he started.

Maybe he won’t be free, but she will be, maybe Andrew can still save her.

“I’m s-sorry,” he says to the two of them, and before his vision is completely clouded with tears, he presses the sharpest tip of the mirror against his skin and pushes in.

With his teeth biting clear through his bottom lip, Neil’s cry tries to rip through him, so painful, so tired, so scared. He’s shaking too hard to even try and cut a clean line, making a distorted and jagged mess of his skin. He cuts right below his belly, where Abby told him they would cut when it was time.

It had seemed so scary.

He doesn’t know why he thought that now.

His vision begins to blur, his hand shaking so hard he drops the glass. He whimpers and cries, sobs as he reaches around for it blindly, but he’s too dizzy to make sense of directions.

Everything is black and grey, with fragments of red thrown in. If he could throw up, he would.

He can’t do anything but cry and beg and bleed.

There’s pounding on the door, he thinks, or maybe it’s the pounding in his ears, his heart, her heart. Neil looks weakly over his shoulder at the door, just in time to see it burst open. Someone runs in, their scent weak underneath all this blood. He finds the piece of glass before they can stop him, he tries to keep going, keep going, because if he doesn’t then she doesn’t, but suddenly his hands are empty again, and there’s so much blood, so, so much blood . . .

. . . all he can think, as his eyes shut and refuse to open, as everything goes from loud to suddenly so quiet, is that she deserves better, he should have done better . . .

-

Neil is aware of the pain when he wakes up, but he doesn’t feel it.

It’s there, it’s everywhere, it’s bleeding, but Neil can’t feel it because he can’t feel anything.

Not direction, not awareness, not fear or hope or desperation.

There’s a blood-soaked towel in his hand, pressed against his stomach. He isn’t sure how he managed to hold it against himself for this long. Maybe he wasn’t really asleep.

He blinks a few times, slow and confused, before he’s finally able to make some semblance of sense of his surroundings. Scent starts to filter in - alcohol and flowers and blood - while colours begin to return.

He sees blonde hair, he hears the sound of an engine, and smells panic that isn’t his own.

“Here,” someone says, and the car immediately comes to a halt, so hard and fast that Neil jolts in his seat and cries out, finally feeling pain. “Quick, get him out.”

The door next to him opens, hands reaching in and grabbing him. He doesn’t fight them. He wouldn’t even be able to fight himself right now. He’s placed on the ground, cold and wet from recent rain, but the grey and bleary sun is bright on his face. Neil looks up at the sky so he doesn’t have to look down.

“Let’s go,” someone snaps, a man, impatient and panicked. “Lola, come on. He’s done.”

All the pieces click together then, the scent and the sight of her; Lola stands above Neil, her fingertips bloodied and her eyes oddly wide on him. Petrified and unmoving, she hesitates before nodding and turning for the car.

Only to suddenly stop.

With one last look at Neil, she smirks and says, “Don’t say I never did anything for you, kid.” In her hand is a cell phone, and then that cell phone is up against her ear, and she’s saying, “Yeah, we’ve got a kid in labour, cut himself up pretty bad. Found him behind the -”

Neil listens to her speak, not hearing her words, not having hope, because Lola wouldn’t save him, not in this world or any world.

Once finished the call, she throws the phone to the ground and promptly stomps on it with her boot. She blows Neil one last kiss before quickly sliding into the passenger seat, the car ripping away from Neil so fast that it’s gone by time Neil thinks to look at it.

He keeps that towel pressed against the cut that he had made. He accepts the pain, allows it to keep him awake, but doesn’t hope just yet, not even when he hears the sirens approaching.

The ambulance arrives, two paramedics jumping out and into action, touching him and shouting questions that he can’t form any answers to. They take away the towel, replace it with something else, place a mask over his face that allows him to breathe, but not even then does he hope.

His vision turning back to black, Neil pulls the mask away from his mouth to speak, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible. “Call - call Aaron Minyard. He’s - he’s a doctor. He’s m-my doctor.”

He feels pain and delusion, fear and confusion, and then finally, hope, as one of the paramedics nods and promises that they will, before placing the oxygen mask back on his face.

With nothing else to feel, Neil allows everything to go dark, knowing that soon it will all be light.

-

Everything smells sterile when Neil wakes up; the sheets, pillows, walls and curtains.

Underneath all that is the scent of death and dying, something so foul and sad.

There are too many noises coming from each direction. His heart monitor is steadily beating, so odd to hear out loud instead of in his own ears. There are people walking outside his room, talking to one another, as doors open and close, as phones go off and are answered, as carts roll down the hall, wheels clicking off the linoleum.

He doesn’t hurt anymore, not anywhere, but he wouldn’t describe it as numb, because he can still feel.

And what he feels is confused, until that confusion combusts into panic.

Too many wires are connected to him, so many tubes everywhere, up his nose and in his arms. He hisses to himself as he rips out the one in his wrist, but has to keep going, he can’t be tied down, he has to go and find someone, find help, find Andrew, find her -

One of the monitors starts to beep frantically as Neil detaches the wire, only increasing Neil’s sense of urgency. He tugs himself free of the last tube and gets to his feet, all his pain making itself known then. Something aches low in his belly, as if he’s cutting into himself all over again.

He ignores it now like he endured it then.

On shaky legs Neil tries to run, colliding into the glass door in an attempt to open it, but he’s weak and he knows it. His fingers slip and slide along the glass, unable to pull the door back. He nearly resorts to banging and kicking it to get someone else to open it, when a too-familiar figure appears on the other side.

“Jesus Christ, Neil,” Aaron yells, as he effortlessly opens the door with one furious pull. “Are you crazy? You’re going to rip out your stitches!”

“Aaron,” Neil says breathlessly, so relieved his knees begin to give out.

Aaron looks odd in a lab coat, even odder with his unwashed hair and unshaved face. Despite how tired he seems, he’s even more frantic, cussing Neil out as he ushers him back into the bed.

“Andrew,” is all Neil is able to say, looking at the door and waiting, hoping for Andrew to appear. “Where is he?”

“You’re an idiot,” Aaron says, under his breath, trying his best to hook Neil back up to the various wires he’d just undone. “I know it’s hard for you, but if you could for just one second _not_ be stupid, that would be great.”

“Where am I?” Neil asks, ignoring Aaron’s comment by refusing to sit still for him.

“GBMC. Somebody placed an anonymous call to 9-1-1. They were going to take you to John Hopkins until they realized how premature she was. She’s in the NICU right now.” Aaron rucks up Neil’s hospital gown and pulls on a pair of gloves before gently pressing against his abdomen. “You told the paramedics that I was your doctor, we were on the first flight up, and . . . you didn’t rip your stitches, you lucky bastard.”

“Where is Andrew?”

He asks it with his hand on Aaron’s wrist, stopping him from continuing. Neil doesn’t care about ripped stitches. He’ll rip them out himself if he has to.

Aaron meets Neil’s gaze and sighs, resigned. “They wouldn’t let him in, not with how crazy he was being. One nurse was nearly admitted, and he took out the doctor who did your surgery.”

“But _where_ is he?”

“They’re making him wait downstairs in the main lobby, with the police - Neil, _no_ -”

Neil hits the floor at first, so unused to being quick on his feet, but he bounces back up and is running in seconds. Aaron left the door open when coming inside, giving Neil enough room to slip out and run down the hall.

It hurts, maybe, somewhere. It hurt more to leave Andrew, though, so Neil keeps running. His bare feet slap against the floor, as patients, nurses and doctors all look at him in confusion as he passes them.

He can’t find the stairs, so he slides into the elevator before the doors close. More people look at him, with one woman even reaching for him in concern, asking if he’s alright. He nods, unable to form words, but growls when she gets too close.

When the elevator doors open, admitting them to the main floor, Neil takes off running again.

Andrew’s scent is everywhere, cornering Neil in from each direction. He looks around the vast lobby, trying to find him, almost ready to shout his name for everyone to hear, when someone shouts his name instead.

“Neil,” and it’s finally Andrew saying it, his name, that’s him and it’s Andrew and that’s all it takes to make Neil feel like he’s home. There is no pain, no fear, nothing but hope as Neil’s arms go tight around Andrew, as Andrew’s hands fist tightly through Neil’s hair, keeping him close.

Neil’s legs give out, bringing them both to the ground. They keep holding each other, Andrew’s grip possessive and protective, Neil’s grip desperate and demanding, impossible to part for anyone who would dare try.

“Idiot,” Andrew says, his voice all raspy like he’d been shouting all night and all day. “ _Idiot_. Do not do that, _ever_. Do you hear me?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Neil babbles, though he isn’t sure what he’s sorry for. “I had to get to you.”

“You could have died.”

“I was going to die anyway.”

“No,” Andrew insists, pulling Neil’s face to his, saying against his cheek, “We almost had you out. I was going to come for you.”

“I know. I was waiting,” Neil says, honestly, closing his eyes. “But I did what I had to do.”

Andrew breathes in deep then breathes out loud, before quietly saying, “I know.”

They stay in that silence, just the two of them, until they both catch their breath. Andrew soon pulls back just enough to look Neil over, at the blood beginning to stain Neil’s hospital gown. He makes a displeased noise, but Neil ignores it, placing a hand on his now-small stomach.

Then he asks the question he had been dreading.

“Is she okay?”

Andrew looks at Neil’s hand on his stomach, his anger suddenly evident once more.

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Andrew says, almost shamefully. “They won’t let me in.”

Neil nods, running a trembling hand through Andrew’s hair. “Let’s go.”

Andrew helps him to his feet, the two struggling to make it back to the elevator, when it suddenly opens to reveal Aaron and a nurse, pushing an empty wheelchair in front of her. Aaron looks irritated, but Neil can’t remember when he didn’t look like that. “Congrats,” he says once he’s beside them, his arms folded across his chest. “The two of you have successfully managed to piss off everyone in this hospital twice over.”

They both ignore him, Andrew growling at the nurse who tries to touch Neil, forcing Aaron to put aside his indifference to help Neil into the chair.

For a second he looks as if he wants to take Neil back to his room, eyeing the spots of blood on his gown, but he must know that Neil would run again, and again, until he finally gets to where he needs to go, for he sighs to himself and turns them towards the elevator, hitting the floor for the NICU.

The scent of the hospital soon changes, from chemicals and cleaning products to something soft and delicate. Neil can’t place it, as familiar as it is. It makes his heart race all the same.

“Your daughter was born yesterday at 5:57 PM, weighing in at four pounds and seven ounces,” Aaron says, reading off a chart that the nurse hands him. “Her lungs aren’t fully developed, so she’ll need some help to breathe for a while, but other than that, she’s a healthy baby girl . . . so, uh, congratulations.”

He shrugs, looking odd and out of place, but manages a smile for his brother before nodding to the nurse still standing with them. She helps Andrew and Neil wash up before guiding them through the doors of the NICU, and suddenly, everything is that pleasant scent, and Neil’s heart is wild.

Once the nurse points out which corner of the room their baby is in, Andrew ushers her away and takes control of Neil’s wheelchair, pushing him through the small room and past the many incubators. It’s the oddest machine Neil has ever seen in his life, so big and bulky in comparison to the tiny babies inside.

He prepares himself for what she’ll look like, studying all the babies that they pass. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t so much as held a baby before. He never had a family, so he was never around children growing up.

All he has to go on with is the information he read from Abby’s various pamphlets and instinct.

But what if instinct isn’t enough?

They finally approach the incubator in the far corner, a pink sign with the name ‘Minyard-Josten’ on it taped to the front. Andrew goes still, while Neil holds his breath, wondering if this is all a dream, a delusion, and that he truly did die back there in that house, bleeding with the broken piece of a mirror in his hand.

Andrew helps Neil stand, keeping him upright with one arm gently wrapped around his waist. If it hurts, Neil doesn’t notice, can’t care.

They take a step towards her together, and even if Neil spent his life trying to prepare, he’d be defenseless against her. She’s unlike any other baby in the room in that she effectively takes Neil’s breath away.

“Oh,” Neil says, softly, immediately reaching out before hesitating. Even his finger seems too large in comparison to her, like he could damage her with one touch. “She’s . . .”

“Tiny,” Andrew finishes for him, and nods at Neil encouragingly, his eyes so sure.

“Yeah, tiny.”

He speaks quietly, and moves slowly, for her, but also for himself. He’s been running so much lately, it’s time to slow down.

Her skin is pink yet pale, her tiny chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Looking at her is soothing enough, but when Neil finally touches her little hand, he feels nothing but calm.

His eyes well up the longer he touches her, looks at her, but he never wants to look away. She’s a complete stranger but Neil feels as if he’s known her his whole life.

He gets to look at her, just like this, for the rest of his life.

Neil never had that, never had a life to live the rest of. His whole existence has been running, hiding, lying and evading. She will never go a day in her life having to experience that, he promises.

“What if we break her?” Neil asks, only able to look away from her if it means he gets to look at Andrew.  

Andrew doesn’t look like Andrew, with his usual hard edges and sharp eyes now softened, and in this light he looks as delicate as she does.  

“It would be no small feat,” Andrew says, and even more hesitantly than Neil, he reaches out to hold her hand. His hand, always so strong and vicious, looks odd against hers, but somehow so right. “She’s made it this far.”

Neil laughs, teary but happy.

Her hair is a dark shade of blonde, sparse across her skull, while her nose is the smallest that Neil has ever seen, and he so badly wants to kiss it, even though he doesn’t understand why.

He can’t explain anything about the way he feels, he only knows it’s right.

“Brookes?” Neil asks, tilting his head to the side as he studies her further, trying to imagine calling her that. It’s a big name for a tiny baby, so much rougher than she looks, but it fits, like she was born for the name and not the other way around.

“Brookes,” Andrew agrees, his voice all small, and as if he’d been reading Neil’s mind, says, “She’ll grow into it.”

Neil smiles at Andrew, before turning that same smile onto their daughter.

“Yeah, yeah she will.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all, folks!
> 
> What a journey. I know it wasn't directly implied, but Nathan presumes Neil to be dead, and thus nothing can come from his contract. Maybe one day he'll find out Neil was saved! Who knows! For now, I'm just gonna let Andrew and Neil be happy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I super hope you liked it! As for future Andreil fics, I have nothing planned, and might use my summer to work on something original (ha!) instead. You're welcome to prompt things though, because you never know! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments would be the world!! 💕 Once finals are over I’ll be replying to all previous comments. sorry for the wait 😭


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